Sunday: it is quiet today. The wind has abated and the sea settles as the squalls are pulled northwards to chase round the eye of the storm as it heads for Iceland The November sun is too weak to banish the early morning chill so fingers remain cold and clumsy, thrust deep into the worn … More From Autumn to Winter
… and they called the wind Abigail? I’m off to batten down the hatches again and check the operation winter storm preparations. Winter has arrived – but what a good reason to abandon the chores and sit by the fire with a good book.
Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them – Marcel Proust This morning I watched the rain run down the window as the wind drove sheets of rain across waves of grass and beyond out over a turbulent grey sea. A metaphor for the poignant memories which turn my … More A Sunday for Reflection and a Cake for Christmas