Monday

13 February 2017

— the sparrows doing their trapeze artist imitations

Good Morning All,

Saturday afternoon being sunny for the first time in a week, Esther and I went out for a drive to enjoy the fields and forests in their white finery. Esther, a district nurse for thirty plus years, knows this area inside and out, all the back roads and side roads to the houses of the ill and the old she visited at night and in all weather.

This is a beautiful part of the country, with rolling hills, and large—not often frozen--lakes that in the winter light are a sparkling and rippled aqua-marine. In the fields, there were diamonds in the snow, and where the sun shown on the drifts along the roadside, the brightness stung our eyes. “Surely,” I said, “there is no white as white as sunlight snowdrift white.”

After that I headed home, eight minutes up the road. I had scheduled myself to empty a minimum of four more moving boxes, but got side-tracked by a short story halfway through the second box. Although I have attached the story here, you are under no obligation to read it!

Go Well and Stay Well,

Bhekaron