Today I make a slow start. The deep winter is here. January brings, at last, the space I've been longing for. 2017 stretches out ahead, silently for now. Illness has contributed to lower energy than usual but when I look into the fields I sense some common ground. There is a quiet . . .
I've been watching small birds feeding on the table outside my window. Cautious at first, nervously swooping in and out. They pause and rest, for seconds at a time, and then they are on edge again, perching precariously. In the midst of them I found myself wobbling too . . .
Myself and the neighbours sky watch and throw our wishes for light into every short encounter. From "there's a stretch in the evenings" to "as long as it's bright" we are guilty of the most repetitive weather conversations that can be had. From the top of the hill . . .