I spent a good part of yesterday marshalling all the Wedgwood china promised to Nephew 1 on the basement work table. A couple of pieces are too beat-up to pass on, such as a coffee cup with an immovable brown stain and a covered dish that shed its lid knob (fortunately the knob itself is not lost). But Lord, what a lot of crockery! Unless Nephew 1’s car is far larger than I think it is, I think I’ll end up hauling at least half of it to Ottawa myself.

With the Wedgwood bound elsewhere, my crockery accumulation is sufficiently reduced that I can stop fretting about it. Everything that remains has a place to be that isn’t a cardboard box on a basement shelf, and I understand why I’m keeping it. My granny's ancient teacups aren’t what I’d call exactly “useful”, but they evoke such powerful memories that I can’t let them go. Yet. Ask me again in 20 years.

Summer may be waning, but in Perth County it’s still verging on hot at mid-day and not what I’d call properly cool at night. Rain is expected today, the first in a week, in a season that’s supposed to be bone-achingly damp. The trees are only just beginning to turn colour. I’m not eager for winter, but I wish autumn would get a wiggle on.