Seeking the seasons

The weather has been just shocking. Rain and the wildest of winds - enough to send my new potted willow tree half way down the garden, scattering it's pretty shades of grey pebbles (not those shades of grey) skyward; raining down like confetti whipped up in a mini garden maelstrom. I exaggerate a little bit, by maelstrom I mean that a few stones were flung across the garden but watching them tumble and turn in their tumult made me feel all the cosier, sat as I was in the safety of the kitchen. Still, it had to be rescued so I popped on my bright yellow sailors mac - you can't miss me in that, I'm a beacon of barminess in it, but I love it. My requirement at the time, was that I wanted to look like a fisherman. Don't ask me why, I was in Cornwall at the time and it was all stripey tops, denim, jute bags and the aforementioned jacket. By this you can tell that I can commit to a look. And it was strong. Very strong. Back to the garden and said willow tree was pu...

Mornings used to be a little bit gruesome. My mind would be churning away with work, it was most likely that I wouldn't have had enough zzzzzs which meant I'd oversleep a bit, then it would be one big rush, all guns blazing to get out of the door and drive to work. I was a 9.05 girl. Yes one of those. Brekkie would be al desko and something grabbed, it was normal for most of us. These days, these happy freelance days, it's rare that I'm overtired, I don't really worry too much about my work being my own boss, but no matter what my circumstances, I don't think I'll ever truly be a morning person, but I'm working on it. I'm still trying to get it right and this is where my garden helps me and steps up to the plate. If I'm very honest with myself, I actually miss a little of that manic, blood pumping, shouty, sweary (I'm a morning delight) rush. I used to feel important, weirdly productive - I was needed somewhere. I'd told myself that ...