silly games we used to play

With three and a half days left in the month, I'm curious to see if the island still plans on giving me a present. Either way, I don't feel overly invested. It could be that I haven't been on the island enough to be graced with a present. It could be that the island can't think of anything to give me. Perhaps most importantly, I wonder if the various shops in London could have been considered a gift given to me, relatively comfortable clothing made from familiar fabrics, teas that weren't the most well-cared for, but that still tasted of home. I'm not a man who's difficult to please; there's a gift in simply living on the island at all and getting to see far beyond my reach in the Three Kingdoms.

However, I find myself pleasantly surprised this afternoon as I stumble across a new plant— a mulberry bush— in my yard, and a few wooden boxes resting by its side. Letting the birds fly off where they may, Meng Meng wanders by and noses the leaves curiously as I seat myself by the boxes, carefully opening each one.

Silkworms.

The movement is enough to scare the colt away to where she grazes some distance away, but my immediate goal has become somehow getting them situated on the leaves of mulberry, hoping that I have what it takes to help them survive. Maybe even thrive.