Empty home

This weekend I was almost all the time around somewhere during a day. That's why it felt so much better to be at home in the evening. When I took a book in my hands and read. One of the best books in a long time. Louis de Berniere - Birds without Wings. Story, full of life, although it is actually about so many deaths that should had never happened. Words, that are beautifully put together in such sentences that I had to read some of them over and over again. And laugh sometimes, too. B was master of words. Not that he spoke a lot but he could explain something complicated with such words that everybody could understand it.
In the meantime I made noodles. Usually they are put in soups. It was fun to make them the first time with my new pasta machine, and first time completely by myself. I used 1 egg for 100g flour. Eggs were small, so I added some water. No salt. Dough has to be compact without any little holes in it when you cut it in half. Next time I will try to make ravioli.
From fog to full sunshine. How could I resist not to go out to enjoy in sun and blue skies? Alps are covered by snow. It is about 1m of snow on some peaks. I don't have any experience with hiking in snow in the mountains, so this time Ž and I headed west. Up on a hill not far from the seaside. It was a nice afternoon walk, and the view from the peak was amazing. The light was soft, shining through the last leaves that were hanging on the branches. There is nothing better than that. To be somewhere outside where I forget about all those worries which I carry around in life.