It’s early, early morning on the 19th March.
I step out of the patio doors at the back of the house and into a frost encrusted garden. The sun, which is rising to the front of my home, is tinting the world a gentle ochre hue. It makes my garden look like a scene from a 1980’s photograph. The sun’s elevation is not quite high enough yet to set the frost a-sparkle, so it gives the garden a slightly faded look which adds to the retro vibe.
I’d like to say that the stillness and quiet is absolute, but I can hear the sounds of the city thrumming away, even at this pre 6am hour, I do live in the suburbs after all. I haven’t realised my dream of living at the foot of a mountain, yet. And with this flicker of realisation a little spiral of grief and yearning knot together in my chest. It is quieter than through the day though, and the sounds of the natural world reach my ears with less interference. I breathe. The feeling passes. Read more