Days like pearls

Yesterday she did nothing but paint, shut away in her studio. Outside it rained and we curled around each other and the fire and dreamt.
Today the world woke to a pearly haze of fog. Together we walked up to the top of the hill following the wide spread paw prints of badgers, then down to the heaving water where the waves crash against the cliffs. Along the cliff path, the edge of the world, with the sea on one side, land on the other, while overhead ravens flew.
The longest walk for a while, and when we came home our feet were muddy, but we sat on the table in the kitchen anyway and helped her write some words for a picture book about stars. But every time we put in the word “cat” she deleted it. What is the use of a book with no cats in it.