What a peculiar December this is turning out to be. Over and over again, the village freezes and thaws, ice and snow one day and rain the next. One day we are in winter clobber, the next we are paddling about in rain jackets and galoshes.
At the moment, the village is in a thaw, and the first thing we hear in the morning is clumps of snow plummeting off the roof, water tinkling merrily through the downspout, cars splashing along in the street. Every puddle in the park seems to be talking to the sky, sometimes clouded and grey, sometimes clear and blue. Encountering sunlight is always engaging this late in the year, particularly in a pool of melt water.
It is mild enough for Beau and I to be outdoors for hours, and we potter along at a snail's pace, talking with the trees (especially the beech mother in the park), listening to crows conversing over our heads, counting cones on the old pines in the woods.
This morning we returned home with our pockets full of fragrant seed bearers in all shapes and sizes, happier with our gathered abundance than we would have been with bags of glittering coin and gently rustling bank notes. My companion has no pockets of his own of course, and on our rambles, he makes use of mine.
Long walks cannot uproot big life stuff, banish misfortune, or smooth out the bumps we encounter on the trail, but they are soothing exercises. We wander for long intervals, and the beloved who has gone on ahead is never far from our thoughts. Wherever he journeys, we send him our love. May his trail be easy and filled with light. Yesterday was his birthday, and come to think of it, it was mine too.
My word, I am positively ancient. How did that happen?
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My apologies for image display issues which originate at blogger and not at this website. I am posting and uploading images as usual, but the platform is not displaying them. Hope they clear this problem up soon.
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