I did not think a kettle could give me as much joy as my new kettle has managed. It has a wonderful disco blue light on it and is made of glass. Thus the water dances about inside, visible to the naked eye. Even the sound of the water boiling (more of a rushing sound) is pleasing. Plus it turns off, I have expired on whistling kettles that summon me to them.

I will say I have always had a very healthy regard for the kettle, but this new sneaking joy, watching and hearing it I have not previously known.

*

I have just canned my first round of peaches. I will not admit the numbers as they are embarrassingly small quantity in the length of time some people could build a house. It is a process and the canner is so big I can practically fit inside it, so if all else fails I may just live in it. I am not quite sure why I get so enthused for domestic endeavours I am entirely unsuited to.  It might have been more sensible to find a novel which had a woman canning in it and to experience it vicariously.

Oiche maith from Sleepless in Peachland here.