Hurrah, the First Snow of the Season

No, I've not gone mad.


Since coming home from hospital I seem to have been racing around like a woman possessed. Of course, I took a few days off at first, tried to relax and recover my strength, but common sense didn't prevail for long. Living where we do, way out of civilisation, in the hills, and at the back of beyond, shopping trips take most of the day. No popping into town for me, no quick dash to catch the shops before closing; no, everything I do assumes the proportions of an expedition. We were out for most of the day, every day; and not just shopping or socialising; there were visits to the hospital for Beloved's eye injection, and the dog needed to go to the vet for his arthritis medication. In between I made preparations for Christmas. Blogging? Reading, Writing? Forget it!


But then it snowed. And when it snows, we can't go anywhere. Which meant that I finally stopped, stood at the window and took time to stare, at the birds scrapping at the bird table, at the dark lines of hedges and tracks, the larches on the horizon and the winter sky.

And when it became too dark to see anything outside I looked inside the room, saw the light of the candles and realised what I had been doing. The relief was such that it felt as if a heavy weight had suddenly been lifted from my shoulders. "It's not my fault if 'things' aren't done, inactivity is not laziness, it's imposed upon me by a force greater than me." Thank you, weather gods.

There was time to sit and drink tea and eat Stollen, to write Christmas letters and have long phone calls with people we won't be seeing. There was time to appreciate the beauty of the season and the gifts it brings to those who open their hearts to receive it. There was time to think and be grateful for what we have.

Thank you, weather gods.