Taking the air

It’s not easy to find an incentive to embrace the outdoors right now. I don’t think that many people really love dark and gloomy fog-filled January. Walk if you can. It’s what we’re designed for. The gloom is often not as dire as it appears from the inside. There are bright spots too. They can be brief and you often have to make an effort to spot them. Perhaps that’s their purpose? They force you to lift your head and look up. Trouble is, if you get stuck inside this time of year you are bombarded with messages telling you you’re not good enough. Don’t believe a word of it. Journalists have to earn a living. Much of the ‘clean, fast, lean’ stuff was written after a chocolate biscuit and a glass of wine last October or before. We’re ok. Most people are ok. And if you need to lose a few pounds, or wash more often, you’ll probably have figured that out by now. Here’s an unbidden tip. Grit your teeth and make and effort to be kinder to yourself and others....

It became a habit that I'd take the boys over to see Granny on a Sunday morning.  When they were babies, it was a huge solace for me. She'd sit cradling them and talking to them and the baby who'd been noisy all night was calmed. As they grew up, we'd spend our time outside in the garden in which I'd grown up. About 3/4 of an acre of meadow which she had worked tirelessly and stubbornly to tame.  There were trees that had been planted when I was a small girl, now 30 feet high, and my own conker tree which had grown into an enormous beauty bearing conkers of her own.  As the boys grew and did their own campfires (who could forget the paraffin-flavoured drop scones? or the stew into which had accidentally fallen a large clump of grass, only discovered upon serving?), I began get on with jobs elsewhere in the garden. Whilst the boys became more self-sufficient, Granny became more elderly and I took over the garden. Increasingly, I'd head over on...

The pot, once at home with my father-in-law, had been driven half way across the country so that it could find a new home with us. It wasn't of much monetary worth, but it had been a favourite and was an important reminder of his beloved garden. I gave it prominence and planted it with a candy-coloured fuchsia that I hoped would emphasise its turquoise. The pot had been in position for approximately 48 hours when it was run over by a drunken teenager attempting to return a bicycle to the shed. Of course, the drunken teenager attempted to prop it back together, in the hope, presumably, that we wouldn't notice the staggeringly large crack or the scattering of flower heads and compost surrounding it. I'm making the best of the relic with some very forgiving houseleeks (sempervivum) in a quiet spot away from the shed. So far, so just about ok.

The sea was noticeably powerful this morning. Determinedly cool, a confident off-shore wind and deep, chunky waves. The long, mostly windless summer had lulled us into forgetting to look out rather than in, and the sea seemed delighted to remind us to pay attention by delivering face-fulls of brine. Always remember who's boss. The sky's reflection was deep pewter,  mesmerising, and it was easy, even for me, to see that it foretold a change in the weather. A flock of gulls was playing nearby; dipping and diving, bobbing about, lazily waiting for the fishing boat tide. You can see a single gull in the photo here, there are quite a few on the video.