He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.
The sun is streaming through the window against a purply black cloud. I know without looking a rainbow will be there. Violent wind howls down the chimney, it is a tumultuous day of opposites.
It’s G’s birthday today, he works his way through it. I don’t celebrate birthdays and he does. It’s odd.
As the black cloud recedes to allow the sunrise its glory, blue sky fills its place, when dark clouds fill our minds we can choose to force them away with the violent wind of rationale.
My neighbour and I were talking yesterday, she said some lovely things and I hope I did too. I wish like she does that we could talk and talk until we were all talked out but we no longer live on the same lane and our talk is tapping keyboards rather than face to face.
Toff and Treacs (how quickly names get shortened) fight for attention and then distracted chase an imaginary mouse round the room. Toffee, better now after a dose of cat flu.
Grey rain clouds are vying for attention in the sky, pushing ever closer. An odd day.
Trees are beginning to bud, the willow has a shower of pussies, a rose from last year still blooms. Crocuses and snowdrops are formed, daffodil leaves pushing through. January though not yet finished has left little impression on the seasonal calendar. Things are moving faster because of the inclement weather.
The day is settling into grey. The sun still shines above but no longer visible. Time to move. Time for coffee. Time to gather children and kittens. Time in one day.
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