Life in Isolation…
As we move into the very early stages of freeing up of Lockdown, I’ve had pause to reflect on what this time has meant for me.
In typical Pollyanna fashion, I’m looking for the prism of light.
To be honest, it’s been all of that.
As we move into the very early stages of freeing up of Lockdown, I’ve had pause to reflect on what this time has meant for me.
In typical Pollyanna fashion, I’m looking for the prism of light.
To be honest, it’s been all of that.
This post is a longer one than normal. Rather like a newsletter, if you like.
So pull up a chair, make a cuppa and grab that piece of chocolate cake.
Let’s go!
Passage’s launch approaches fast.
As summer continues to bake our garden, it becomes more difficult to find anything to talk about. One can bemoan the cost of the water with which we irrigate the garden on a heavy daily basis. One can whinge about the dry thunderstorms and the humidity immediately after. Or whine about the longing for an autumnal-styled day so one can work happily in the garden.
Three sleeps to go till Christmas Day!
Despite that it takes energy and exertion to get to that point, it’s all mellowed on the day.
By expressions of joy when a gift is opened or when a burst of flavour from something delicious lands on the tongue. When a hug from a favourite person thrills, when a brilliantly told yarn around the table holds the attention and then burst likes fireworks with the punchline.
Apparently maunder is another word for meander, meaning a leisurely walk.
I recently maundered through a friend’s garden. It’s an exuberant garden, high-spirited and vivacious with colour.
This year is flying and sometimes I just want to grab it and say slow down. Other times, I grab it by the shirt tails and hold on for my life!
Thankfully, writing is not just sitting in draughty garrets with guttering candles and quills worn to stubs and ideas fluttering to the floor like so much rubbish.
Good things come one’s way…
No writing this afternoon, no swimming either … instead, bringing the ewes off the oat stubble on a stormy afternoon…
Through dust and dirt…
Sometimes life is for escaping from.
Sometimes it’s for escaping to.
Today was the latter…
Very early this morning, the men decided to go fishing and being totally uninterested in the hunter-gatherer thing, I asked if they could drop me at Maria Island.
