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Showing posts from January, 2022

Week Of The First Snowdrops

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15/1/22 Saturday Whizzed through housework this morning, possessed with a motivation to live in a pleasant home. No frost to ogle. Sky, and sea, when I view them on my commute, are the same muted steel; one patch of cloud glows like a furnace. The hydrotherapy pool is open again so my co-worker and I load the car to take our care client, she is keen-keen-keen to get in the water. Feels tropically hot. After this, we are all hungry and relaxed. On the drive back a three-quarter moon looms in the pale sky, bobbled clouds of grey darken, rain dribbles down the windscreen like rivulets of mercury.  16/1/22 Sunday Drive to work with my new bright yellow raincoat on the front seat next to me. Sky is Wedgewood blue, clouds ripple like the low tide sand, horizon hazy-white. It is unlikely to rain but I want to wear my rubber duck coat. We take a short stroll; after which I hang my prize on the back of a chair, put a rainy day scene on YouTube, and eat a pot of tiramisu.  17/1/22 Monday A sugar

Warmth In Winter

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8/1/22 Saturday Arrived at work via the Hospice Charity shop donation site, having made a push to clear space in the home office/storage room. This is part of our tussle to become tiny-house-ready, therefore it counts as land journey progress.  I showered this morning and, wary of cold creeping in, had my wet hair shoved inside a woolly hat; glad of the warmth as I was dashing through rain to gift a pile of picture frames.  At work: Outside the rain is sloshing. We can hear some sort of banshee wind. Dark drops suddenly. I’ve let my hair down, it’s still damp. I ate the last leftover Xmas satsuma and made tea from the peel. I’ve checked moon cycles for the best pruning dates.  I’ve ordered myself a superb raincoat and it’s out of stock. 9/1/22 Sunday Zipped to work hopeful of collecting driftwood on the way down but time and weather gently gathered into a Not-Today. On the way home I notice the absence of Xmas lights- usually someone forgets- and think fondly of how the inflatable San

Poop And Slow Progress And Yule Is Done

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1/1/22 Saturday Last night just before midnight, Mr & I strolled down the dark lane, wine glasses in hand; spotted constellations, watched distant fireworks. This morning Dog had done several splats of foulness on the living room carpet. HNY! Also this morning: In bed, chinking coffee cups, we say- what will this year bring? We hope it’s a track and a toilet shed. On the way to work, I stop for a walk at Carlyon Bay. Far from frosts, a warmish wind blows, the sea is a stirred milky blue, the air damp. At work, I eat chocolate and mince pies and a bag of spinach.  2/1/22 Sunday 5am: Dog does dusty poop in the kitchen. Mr rises and mops. 7am: Dog arrives in our bedroom, she’s not sure why. I rise, briefly, relocating my snooze to the recliner chair while she settles on the sofa. 8am: coffee in bed, reading gardening books.  Not looking at the clock: walk before work, around the lanes in the unseasonably warm grey fuzzy air. No snowdrops to be seen, only the plucky wild strawberries t