D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

Prudence was not in the cellar. She appeared for breakfast, and both she and Monty were sitting there in the back porch at the very start of the evening, asking to be fed (or maybe to be allowed in the house to eviscerate the dog, who knows).

The oranges on the tree are starting to turn orange. The one I noticed that was split fell off a few days ago—I suspect rodent action—so it's straight to compost.