Posts in observe
Chapter Two

If January is the misplaced month, then February is the fickle one. It gives with one hand and snatches back with the other. We wait patiently for it to arrive throughout the inconspicuous days of January, hoping that when it comes, it will bring with it discernible signs of spring. And yet, more often than not, we find ourselves held hostage in the relentless grip of winter. But if we take the time to look, we will see that February is actually a plucky little month; one full of courage and determination. For underneath the silver-thatched grass and iron-clad earth, the cycle of the seasons is well underway.

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Adjusting the Sails

A while ago, a calligrapher friend of mine gifted me the most beautiful card on which were written the words, ‘We cannot direct the wind but we can adjust the sails’. I taped this postcard to the green cupboard just above my kitchen sink and each time I went to open the door, the words would resonate in my head. As time went by, slowly and imperceptibly these words became my mantra. We all had to make changes to our lives last year. For some of us, those changes came easily and we learnt a lot about ourselves in the process. But for others, sailing in a new direction became perilous, especially as our boat turned away from the horizon and the endless dark and cavernous sea surrounded us.

I remember feeling quite daunted by how much time I had at my disposal. I would often wonder whether you could actually have too much time. Long days of little things sounded idyllic but in reality there were too many gaps in the day through which I could fall and become underwhelmed by nothingness.

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Queen of the Flask

The afternoon light was already beginning to fade by the time we reached it. The clouds were gradually descending and enveloping the hills in their mist until they floated just above the loch, transient and ethereal. We lit the stove and candles and settled in for the night. There is something so mystical about sleeping in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. You absorb and assimilate the very air that surrounds you. You are forced by the rhythms of your environment to slow down and adapt to its pace. But you are not lost. There is just enough peripheral sound to keep you conscious of each moment. You transcend your physical shell as your spirit stretches and spreads out to fill the void around you. It is one of the best night’s sleep you will ever have.

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A Perfectly Portioned Autumn

It’s that time of year again, my favourite time when the smell of autumn lingers in the air and everything feels new and possible. Every year I have such high hopes for autumn. I promise myself that I shall be out revelling in it as much as possible. I imagine the long walks in my favourite knitwear, my ochre scarf wrapped around my neck as I kick up leaves in my walking boots. But for me, autumn always comes with a side serving of trepidation and fear. Because autumn is as much about food as it is about being outdoors. It’s the season of harvest and abundance, tempting me with big roast dinners, warming stews and wholesome soups. I love to plan walks where I know there's a cafe so I can sit and enjoy my cake and coffee as the light fades around me. For me, autumn gives with one hand and cruelly takes with another. 

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A Contented Month

Autumn though is a time of contradictions too. The early darkness forces us to slow down, to retire the day earlier than usual. As the winds pick up and the air finds it's bite, we retreat. We batten down the hatches and wait, finding solace in our domesticity. Yet I often find that this time of year brings about a new vigour, experiencing a rush of energy and creativity. The crisp days lure me outdoors where I'm not startled by a squintingly bright light but instead I'm beckoned by a low sun that is soft and unobtrusive.

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