I just served Tummo some more paté: she is devouring it.  She came in from outside and scuttled in.

The monks are unperturbably singing. It is a bit tiresome to hear but I will get into it...i am just no longer used to the monotonous chanting. I have a cup of coffee next to me, in takaka pottery brought by hubby from NZ last year when visiting his sister and dad.