February

The 4th- night air, eight o’clock and post, still smelling cold, but with a scent of freshness, of something else; it smells like late-October, lightness and possibility, a definite lift of the heart

The Seven Sisters, still and proud as ever, an anchor in the clear Winter sky

The enchanting, dusty black-blue of blueberries

The creaking, hiccupping sounds of the garden chickens a few houses over

How even the earliest days of Spring elicit hope, kindle and lift the heart and spirit. Vivification and the feeling of the unfurling of my best parts

Garden visitations from neighbourhood cats, exploring and thawing their joints on warmer days

The sunshine, incrimentally heating up

These boundary days of Winter and Spring, feeling the tender exchange and play between the two

Lighter afternoons and early-evenings, quiet, blissful

Feeling freer, lighter in myself- my body and mind- to enjoy things at my own pace and luxuriate in the pleasure of everything, the endless, bright possibility in every day

Husband’s glee at watching a certain Antipodean relocation programme in the morning before work

Chocolate roses wrapped in red foil, chocolate tulips wrapped in dark and lighter pink foil

Feeling proud of and contented in myself for the hours put in every day to writing, working in the way that best fits me

The clink of ceramic as you fetch a mug from the cupboard

Early-morning owl talk

Late-night owl talk

Little birds flitting around; busy early-Spring skies

Being bold- or foolish- in submitting my manuscript to a publisher. Being all too aware of how incredibly exhilarating, exposing and vulnerable an experience this is

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