Running Up That Hill

Today has really felt like the start of the New Year for me.

Even though the kids and Marc have returned to their various places of work and learning, I have not yet had a chance to stop and smell the coffee. I returned from Bristol at the weekend, and have spent the time since furiously cleaning, tidying, list making, recycling and all those other bitty jobs that rear their heads after an extended holiday.

But this morning I went for a long walk with Honey. It is beautiful in St Ives today. The sun is shining low on the lanes, and the air has that sharp quality about it, which I love. It felt so good to amble up the hill towards Steeple Woods, listening to the birds and looking for signs of Spring. They are already here in the far South West. The start of the Foxglove in the hedgerow. The buds appearing on the trees.

I watched a Mistle Thrush nervously pecking away at a snail. He was being challenged by a very rambunctious Robin who cat-called and flew around him, as he tried to eat his breakfast. There was a Buzzard sat on some telephone lines surveying the fields. His feathers were plumped up against the chill of the morning, but he seemed contented enough to sit and look around him. There were Blackbirds, Sparrows, Blue Tits and many others darting in and out of the hedgerows. They seem very busy all of a sudden. Perhaps they sense Spring is coming too.

Back home I went outside to look at the garden. It has been so badly neglected. I haven't even planted my Spring bulbs yet. It's on the list. I hope I'm not too late. We have some major work to do this year. The decking has gone rotten, and we are building a cabin for some badly needed extra living space. I'm not sure how this will affect the garden, but it's a rather exciting prospect. My garden seems to be in a constant state of renewal. I'm forever moving plants around, rather like I do with the furniture in my house. I dead capricious like that.

Some good news. Dad may be coming home from hospital tomorrow. He has been so poorly over Christmas, with secondary infections delaying treatment. Although he has been terribly weakened by it all, I know that home will be just where he wants to be. And can I say God Bless the NHS, and all who sail in her? We are so lucky to be able to have such a wonderful institution at our disposal. I have been in awe of the care he has received by all the staff of Ward 7.

I can see a pile of ironing in my peripheral vision. It's daring me to ignore it, and sit down with my seed catalogue that's just plopped through the letter box. Maybe just one more cup of coffee from my new mug before I press the shirts?

Have a lovely week gorgeous ones.

Leanne xx