Hullo again, diary! You fell behind the dresser and it weren't till I pulled it away from the wall to do my spring cleaning that I found you again! I am sorry, and promise I won't lose you again.
Winter were a slow and sort of sad time around the Boarding House. Master Tumunir is away most of the time, but I keep his bed made and an extra pair of stockings put by, just in case. I know he never really lived here. Meaning this ain't his home, though he's kept his bed for some years now. I know he and his little folk belong off in the mountains, or under the mountains, so they say. But he and Master Maurr and their friends got a place in my heart, and that's all there is to it. So my home will always be their home, no matter where I am.
Missus Hopmead's been visiting more often, and been asking me to visit her at the farm, too. I try to go when I can, though it's a fair hike and a few miles to get there. It's not far enough to take the cart, but when I'm walking it feels very far, indeed. I don't mind so much, specially in the summer when the mornings are so lovely and warm and bright, and what better thing is there to do than walk the lane and hear the birds and the cows and smell the clover? But I'm slow. And I'll always be slow. And the day is half gone by the time I get back home. So I admit, I like it best when she comes to me! She's gotten a bit rounder since she went to her new place, and her laugh is jolly as ever. Pumpkin loves her and climbs all over the woman when she's trying to drink her tea. It were her, after all, what found Pumpkin when she were just a little kitten, tail bit off and like to die.
I almost forgot! I've got two new folk at the Boarding House! A brother and sister, if you can believe it. I haven't worked too much out of them yet, but they're Breeish enough, and said they're looking for some work near town. I didn't pile too many questions on, as they seemed sort of quiet and tired. Tired in the soul, maybe. The kind of folk what need a warm bed and tea and cakes and kindness. They're both a bit older than me, I think. Sometimes hard to tell when poor folk work so hard, out in the sun, worrying for coin year after year. The brother caught me with a book last evening as he were coming in from the rain, and asked me if I knew my letters. I told him "a little", which is true enough, and he asked if I could teach him letters, too. Bless me if I know how to teach letters to anyone, let alone myself! But he looked all plant plainet pitiful from being out in the rain, with his hat all crushed up in his hands, so I couldn't find the heart to say nay.
And there's the kettle. I must run!
