Posted by Tania Kindersley.
The day escaped from me so this is very quick.
The weather continues atrocious, cold and bleak and unforgiving. I yearn and yearn for spring. A dolefulness from the unkind elements and the thought of the anniversary of my dad is seeping into my bones. It shall pass, but it is uncomfortable. The wise people say that that is the secret of life, to learn to sit with the uncomfortable things. I say: every day can't be Doris Day.
Luckily my horse is being particularly sweet today. She is gentle and kind; she walks by my shoulder without a headcollar; she does not complain of the cold and the rain.
My dog is also particularly sweet. She sleeps by my side all day as I wrestle with my work and gaze out over the sodden grass and the drowned trees.
I make pesto for supper, and have it with ravioli, so I suppose all is not lost. If I can still make pesto, there are signs of life.
Vaguely, I take in that everyone is very, very cross with the Home Secretary.
Better tomorrow, better tomorrow, runs the mantra in my head. Tomorrow, who knows, there may be sun, literal or metaphorical.
The weather was too filthy for pictures, so here are some recent ones: