Today was the last day of school for Adrian. Last day of the school year, last day at this school. There was a graduation celebration for the students, but nothing that parents are invited to. From what Adrian tells me, I gather that various groups of students performed for the others, a teacher held a speech, they got their envelopes with their grades, and with that, they were sent off.

Adrian has been working hard this year for his grades, tracking the total points value closely throughout the spring term and paying extra attention to the subjects where he had a hope of raising his grade. He brought home a report card with mostly A’s and some B’s mixed in, which should most likely be enough to get into his first choice of high school (which is a rather competitive one). The first round of admissions will be out on July 1st.

I do my best to find a balance between encouraging a good work ethic and making an effort at school, on the one hand, and – on the other – helping to accept less than perfect results. I remember the crushing pressure for perfect grades from my own years at school. Coming home with a 4 on a test (on a scale where 5 was best) only to be met with a surprised/disappointed “what happened here, then?” (“no mis siin siis juhtus?”) was a formative experience, not in a good way. The message that I was only worth something if I was the best stayed with me for many long years, and that’s a way of thinking I am very determined not to pass on.

Back in the 80s, there were horrible stinky chemicals against moths. Those are all forbidden now, and that’s a good thing. What do you do against moths, then?

The pheromone trap doesn’t seem to be of much use. I spotted (and killed) two more moths but the trap is empty.

The internet suggested cedar blocks, so I ordered some of those.

Also, keeping the knitted items clean, which checks out: the most badly eaten item was a pair of thermal bottoms that I used as sleepwear this winter and hadn’t given a final wash yet. I guess the body odour adds extra flavour. I’ll be washing everything that I haven’t washed yet.

Finally, a layer of physical protection. It’s the larvae that eat wool, and those hatch from eggs, which means that the adult moths must be able to reach the woollen item. They don’t eat cotton or polyester, so I’ll be wrapping everything that isn’t in season in cotton bags. The easiest, cheapest way to get hold of a bunch of cotton bags? A dozen pillowcases from the charity shop, at 10 SEK each.

Luckily for me, the moths seem to prefer industrially spun superwash merino wool to the coarser, thicker fibres that I mostly use in my knitting. None of my hand-knits had any holes; it was only a few store-bought items.

A roe deer, resting in the garden. Not the least bit bothered by my presence.

I also spotted a fox twice this week. Both times very early in the morning, before six. It was not at all as bold as the deer – I walked ten steps to get my camera, came back, and it was gone.

Also, beautiful poppies. If only they flowered longer than the few days they do.

I made this a “get things done” weekend and crossed some long overdue tasks off my list. Among them, two piles of rocks in the garden.

First, a small pile of small rocks from when I planted a plum tree. Those I carried away in a few trips with a sturdy bucket. They were neither pretty nor even so those just went into a heap in front of the root cellar. Maybe they’ll help block some weeds.

And then another group of much larger rocks. One I could carry. The next I could roll. The third one I could barely roll with great effort, and it left a thoroughly flattened path behind it.

All of those I got up to the house and jiggled into place along the edge of the deck. I think they look decently decorative as a border there. Might be better with a couple more, maybe I can find some somewhere.

The fourth one is at least twice as large as the third one, so there’s no way I moving that one, especially since it would be mostly uphill. It’s staying right where it is. I can’t believe I even got it out of the ground – that must have been a major effort with the crowbar. (I think it’s this one.)

Patched a threadbare spot on a pair of linen trousers. Even though there was no actual hole, and even though the thread matches perfectly in colour, and even though the patch is on the inside, it is clearly visible if you know what to look for.

But is it visible if you’re not looking? I put them on and twisted around to see as much as I could in the mirror, and couldn’t spot it. Good to go, then.

Visibly patched jeans are OK. Casual wear, too. Patched office wear, not quite so much. Maybe if they had so many patches that it becomes a statement, but not with just one.

Went for dinner and drinks (an intriguing vegan mushroom lasagna at Falloumi, and a mocktail) with a friend. I so rarely spend time in central Stockholm that I felt like a tourist. Various streets have become pedestrian zones and there are so many more cafés and restaurants with outdoor seating than I remembered. Very cosy.

My socks wear out first under the base of the big toe, then under the base of the little toe. After that, the rest of the ball of the foot, under the big toe, and along the edge of the toes. (That last one is trickiest to mend, along with the tip of the big toe, and will be the place that finally makes me bin a pair.)

Never at the heel. On some pairs I can be close to needing to do a second layer of darning on top of a previous mend under the ball of the foot, and the heel is still all good. Possibly a bit felted, but never worn through.

The mending basket is forever overflowing. Socks don’t generally stay there for too long – they’re easy to darn – but other things have a tendency to pile up. I don’t even remember what is at the bottom. Maybe if I leave it here in plain sight, it will get prioritized.

I have clothes moths. I’ve seen one flying around on a few occasions, and I’ve discovered holes in some of my woollen clothes.

Bought a moth trap. It turned out to have the most infuriating design ever.

There’s a cardboard outer box with a hook for hanging it somewhere, and a glue-covered pheromone-laced inner piece, also cardboard, that’s supposed to be replaced every eight weeks. The inner piece is supposed to be attached to the outer shell using a sticky patch in the center of it. The active front of the inner card is covered with a protective piece of peel-off plastic.

How the heck is this supposed to be assembled? If you put the card in the box first, so that you can press them together, then you can’t peel the plastic off. If you peel the plastic off first, then you can’t touch the front of the card any more, so you can’t press it to the box, so it just rattles around, and ends up gluing itself to the box.

At a quarter past midnight when I was just about to go to bed, I noticed Nysse in my bedroom, which is unusual for him, and behaving oddly on top of that.

A closer look showed the reason: he was playing with a mouse that he had brought inside.

The mouse was physically unharmed, but probably panicking, of course. Nysse wanted to play and sort of softly batted the mouse about, not particularly aggressively at all. The mouse tried to flee a few times, but mostly stayed as still as possible. At one point it ran into the folds of my morning robe and Nysse, who had been looking the other way, basically lost him.

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a plastic jar with a lid, hoping desperately to get back before Nysse lets the mouse flee again and it goes into hiding under my bed or something like that. Ran back again and saw the mouse in relative safety in the corner of the room, in a freeze response. It didn’t even react when I put the jar over it – like I’d do with a wasp or a spider – and slid the lid underneath. Easier than catching a wasp, actually.

Snapped a quick photo and released it into the garden. Then threw Nysse out as well a couple of minutes later, because he was still in a hunting mood and was running around and looking for things to attack. By that time the mouse seemed to have disappeared.