( the heat of summer passes, buckling to the chilled dampness of autumn. two months have elapsed since atticus took up residency of a former fishing lodge outside the small country town of meryton. it's a welcome contrast to his previous permanent residence, a second rate ship of the line floating in the mediterranean, where if he wasn't in constant worry of an attack from the french, it was of the hammering of stockfish in the galley.
meanwhile, in hertfordshire, his mind barely concerns itself with even trivialities. his days while away walking the countryside, reading, and laying on the grass in naught but his skin. the social gaieties of meryton held no fascination to him. indeed, even if they had, he doubt he'd be invited anyways. any small worry that his lodgings would be assaulted by calls to assemblies and gatherings were instantly erased the day he first appeared in meryton, dishevelled, mud-footed, and carrying his dog like a babe. in a former life, this shameful incident would have plagued atticus for several weeks. so attached and aware of social decorum was he that he would've allowed it to beset him. but, with meryton at his back, dustros up front, and a canopy of trees overhead, a flutter of spirits seized him and he had little recourse but to laugh. this did not endear atticus to the community but it made it so his solitude was never interrupted unless by his choosing.
and so his days quietly pass, broken neither by socialisation or complaint. the perfect atmosphere for reflection and composition. hertfordshire is virgin country for him so every difference in weather was a new experience. today is the first thunderstorm of autumn and it's an omen for the cold winter that will follow. thankfully, before atticus committed to the place, old tom macmurray plugged and fortified any cracks in the cottage's structure, in addition to installing a great cast iron stove in the kitchen and a rumford fireplace in the sitting room. with the improvements done to the place and a well-stocked pantry, atticus could survive the winter without needing to travel to town.
the rain falls heavy and without pause for nearly a quarter of an hour. he intends to have an early supper so he can dedicate the remainder of the evening to meditation as nature provides the sweet melody of rain tapping at the windows. as atticus reads near the fireplace, dustros, resting on his red pillow at his feet, lifts his head up and growls. it amazes him that, though they are indoors and the wind is howling, a dog can sense when an intruder is near. but surely not a deer or rabbit. with the abundance of wildlife in the area, dustros possesses enough sense to not terrorize every animal that passes. except rats, which aside from companionship is the primary reason atticus bought him.
dustros jumps down from his bed and his nails tap against the wooden floorboards as he trots to the front door. he paces, sniffing at the door. over the top of his book, atticus watches him but decides to return to his reading when no further incident occurs. although two months have passed in these woods, dustros is still a city dog at heart and is still becoming acquainted with the sounds and smells of the country. )
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meanwhile, in hertfordshire, his mind barely concerns itself with even trivialities. his days while away walking the countryside, reading, and laying on the grass in naught but his skin. the social gaieties of meryton held no fascination to him. indeed, even if they had, he doubt he'd be invited anyways. any small worry that his lodgings would be assaulted by calls to assemblies and gatherings were instantly erased the day he first appeared in meryton, dishevelled, mud-footed, and carrying his dog like a babe. in a former life, this shameful incident would have plagued atticus for several weeks. so attached and aware of social decorum was he that he would've allowed it to beset him. but, with meryton at his back, dustros up front, and a canopy of trees overhead, a flutter of spirits seized him and he had little recourse but to laugh. this did not endear atticus to the community but it made it so his solitude was never interrupted unless by his choosing.
and so his days quietly pass, broken neither by socialisation or complaint. the perfect atmosphere for reflection and composition. hertfordshire is virgin country for him so every difference in weather was a new experience. today is the first thunderstorm of autumn and it's an omen for the cold winter that will follow. thankfully, before atticus committed to the place, old tom macmurray plugged and fortified any cracks in the cottage's structure, in addition to installing a great cast iron stove in the kitchen and a rumford fireplace in the sitting room. with the improvements done to the place and a well-stocked pantry, atticus could survive the winter without needing to travel to town.
the rain falls heavy and without pause for nearly a quarter of an hour. he intends to have an early supper so he can dedicate the remainder of the evening to meditation as nature provides the sweet melody of rain tapping at the windows. as atticus reads near the fireplace, dustros, resting on his red pillow at his feet, lifts his head up and growls. it amazes him that, though they are indoors and the wind is howling, a dog can sense when an intruder is near. but surely not a deer or rabbit. with the abundance of wildlife in the area, dustros possesses enough sense to not terrorize every animal that passes. except rats, which aside from companionship is the primary reason atticus bought him.
dustros jumps down from his bed and his nails tap against the wooden floorboards as he trots to the front door. he paces, sniffing at the door. over the top of his book, atticus watches him but decides to return to his reading when no further incident occurs. although two months have passed in these woods, dustros is still a city dog at heart and is still becoming acquainted with the sounds and smells of the country. )