Winter Bloom
29/1/22 Saturday Sky: grey fleece on a white-gold sheep. Sea: unpolished metal. Workday: half a calming hour in the hydrotherapy pool flanked by less salubrious cleaning tasks. Drive home: hungry. Mr toasts us a hot cross bun each, is generous with the butter. 30/1/22 Sunday Sky: mottle and marble, colours like old cutlery. Sea: graphite, lightly sketched. Someone has spilled silver ink. Workday: c louds drift, leaving wide blue space; we drive, a Sunday lazy meander with windows open. Mr reports our new wood chipper’s debut as a success: it is orange, a very in-fashion bright orange. Stick by stick, the pile of cut hedge is getting chipped. The spring bulbs we planted are pushing up leaves, some are in bud, none open yet. 31/1/22 Monday Day begins: coffee in bed, reading up on wildflower identification (new book). Drive to work. Cloudscape is mountainous. Sea a heavier graphite than yesterday; it leaks silver ink. At work, our care client is sick. Walk plans get scaled down to roun