Today. Temperatures in the minus, Himself on night shifts so I’m not sure what day it is, only that it’s daytime… but things are moving. Restarting life after too long a pause, it feels like. But I have my touchstone of my homeland to keep me grounded.
Every day, without fail, I must walk the dogs. Gearing up to it can feel like a chore, but once we’re outside, their joy buoys me up as we explore what’s changed on the hill since we were last out.
Last night, we had flurries of snow. Today, thick fog. Not cloying, but like a gentle blanket draped across us. Everything is tipped with white from the frost. A spiderweb on a postbox is jewel-like. My neighbour has already placed bread out for the sparrows and blackbirds.
No matter what chaos is going on in the world, my hilltop is my home. Always discovering more about it, feeling with all my senses (including mud up past my ankles on occasion!), and now ready to face the day.
Restarting this blog is the first step in Doing. Moving forward xx
Today, the hilltop is surrounded by a very thick fog. This isn’t actually that unusual here, given the river that runs nearby, but this feels different. According to the BBC, it’s due to intense smog and Saharan sand that’s blowing in from mainland Europe.
So this fog is a mixture of the usual moisture, as well as international debris… I can’t help feeling a little amazed by that, on several levels. Ultimately, it is tangible evidence that our world is very much connected, and our actions impinge on others. Awareness can only be a good outcome from this.
But more immediately, I’m feeling rather unwell as a result. I don’t have asthma, and I know others are no doubt suffering deeply, especially in the cities. For me, it’s more dizziness… literally ‘fogged’ thoughts, almost.
When it’s regular fog from the river, I welcome the blanket that surrounds my home. It’s calm and comforting, encouraging time for rest and contemplation. This is very different – the blanket is gritty and uncomfortable. The land seems aware that something is up; the birds are silent today, there’s no wind to move things… effects are being felt.
Perhaps that’s the direction our ponderings should take today, then. The fog will pass, but its lessons can be learned. Sometimes we can’t just charge ahead regardless of consequences, and our connection to our land (and air) is more present than we might think.