I have just eaten some of the tangy, beautifully red sweet chilli sauce we made at Christmas time from the luscious bunches of chillies growing in the poly tunnel. The colour and sweetness in stark contrast to the view outside the kitchen window.
I’m just back from a new- routine -drive to ‘my horse’ Coriander who lives a 10minute drive away. I have recently been asked to ride Coriander as Paul, her owner since she was a young two year old filly, has become too heavy for her now that Coriander is 17 years old. I didn’t want to ride today, it’s cold out there – 6 degrees Celsius with no promise of a visit from my ‘favourite friend’ here, the sun. I set out reluctantly with the end goal in mind as suggested, apparently, by that 7 -successful- habits -guy. I want to be able to ride Coriander on long out rides with horse fiend, I mean friend, during the long summer months, and Coriander – who hasn’t been ridden for nine months – needs to get fit enough and hopefully far less jumpy. At the moment every sudden movement, even by a tiny bird, causes her heart to leap into her mouth with very literal results. Just relieving a ride on her, during that half- awake -time early in the morning, causes my entire body to jerk an inch across the mattress.
Today the leafless trees standing sentinel along aspects of this new- routine -drive looked grey and old, with tired brittle bones. Usually they seem mysterious and sensuously secretive, their grey intermittently turned silver by the alchemist sun. When massed together against a not too distant hill they call to me, and I know if I could morph into a giant and pass an outstretched hand gently over their spiky surface, I would find, gazing down into my upturned palm, fairy dust. But today instead of reverence a line from a poem trotted through my mind as gloom dominated the ambience. But I have just discovered, after doing a google search for a poem with the phrase ‘In the bleak midwinter’ that it is in fact a hymn, so reverence was there after all. >a