As I confessed previously I’ve struggled to come out of my cosy hibernation after Christmas. We’ve had a spell of cold, dry weather which has afforded lots of peaceful walks, where the air itself seems to buffer any sound. The dark silhouettes of the trees against a pale grey sky whisper simplicity. And the barrenness of the gardens speaks of a season of rest; the ground is lying still before the burgeoning of spring.
I love how the seasons in nature reflect seasons in our lives. As I walked one day I mulled over my current difficulty in cranking into full gear, in the midst of winter. And I gave myself permission to take life at a slower pace for a few more weeks. Just as the earth needs time to rest and build up its nutrients before the heady blossoming of new growth, so maybe I need a few quieter weeks to regain my energy and nourish my own soul.
Life is never exactly quiet in our home, as our calendar portrays, but I’m trying to turn down the pace of our daily rhythm. To make choices, when I can, to do less rushing around and more walking, more reading.
The above picture shows some of the treasures collected on a nature walk with Dad. So much better than with me, I’m told. I’m just too embarrassing!
These we’re taken on a visit to Granny’s Cathedral City, as we strolled around the grounds of the Bishop’s Palace. Sparkly Eyes found a dog on which to lavish her affection, and offered its gracious owner some of her play doh burger. I subsequently discovered this was the Bishop’s wife, out for a quiet walk walk around her garden. And I spied the first snowdrops of the year. The “fair maids of February ” (C M Barker), peeking their way into the world, reminding me that all the life of the next season is on its way.