Itchy feet again…… Perspective is everything and as we develop and grow, what we didn’t like can change to what we do like and visa versa, but does that mean we have to stay still or is it good to keep moving, keep seeking and trying new things, including places to live……
‘We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.’ Anais Nin
Currently I am in the process of selling my house, which I built 23 years ago in this north Wexford village, called The Ballagh, I was 32 when I moved back to Ireland and subsequently built this house a couple of years later, on the outskirts of the village.
‘Not for a million pound a week would I live there again’, I said, when I left this village at aged 19.
I had first moved to the Ballagh in 1979 when I was 14 years old. Having come from a fairly large city in the UK it was a complete culture shock to me, leaving the hustle and bustle of a city life, my friends, and my independence of hopping on a bus anywhere, practically from outside my front door, for the deafening quiet of rural country living.
The Ballagh was a very sleepy village back then, with a shop which was also a bar attached and outside a petrol pump if you needed to fill your car. There was another pub down the road, a post office a church, a national school and a run-down community centre, with very little activity.
Outside of the post office was the iconic green and cream public phone box and it was my link to the outside world, out beyond the Ballagh. There was no bus service, except for the secondary school bus which passed through, twice a day, once to take us to school and the next to bring us home.
I had been known to miss the bus, on occasion, in the morning, knowing there was no other way to get to school….
Back then I felt totally trapped in this little village and the only way to get anywhere was to stick out my thumb and hitch a lift. This was a complete no no in the city from whence I had come, but here, in the country, it was an acceptable and encouraged part of everyday life.
I would love it when I would go into Wexford Town, 20 minutes away. There was more ‘life’ there down along the main street and the quay front, and the view looking out across the water filled me with joy. There were people, lots of them, just milling around doing ordinary things, shopping, browsing and crowds of kids hanging out. There was a good vibe about the town, and I longed to be a part of it.
Now and in the last 23 years, this little village, had expanded somewhat with new one off houses popping up everywhere and a few new housing estates. The post office completely renovated and expanded to give us a much needed supermarket, but alas the iconic phone box has long gone.
The shop with the bar has also been expanded, well the pub part of it, and it also gained a function room, but lost the petrol pump.
Back in the day, if it was a function room you were after, it was the Un Yoke, down the road, and everyone, from all over, flocked to it
Now that was a great place, and at the time, it was my saviour because every week-end I got to go there and enjoy the hustle and bustle again, dance to the local bands such as Theresa and the Stars or indeed the big bands like Joe Dolan and the Wolfe Tones.
Sadly, it burned down many years ago, but the car park is now used for the very popular Car Boot Sale, on a Sunday morning.
The national school has been extended twice in the last 23 years to accommodate the ever expanding population and the secondary school bus still comes but twice a day.
The Ballagh may be known more specifically for its GAA than anything else as it has produced some great hurling and camogie players over the years, even winning the All Ireland back in 1996, the year before I moved back here. It’s full title of course being Oulart the Ballagh, as our two half parish’s make a whole.
This village is more than GAA however, it has a good community spirit. The new and improved community centre has many uses, from running a boxing club, youth club, active retirement group and a preschool, to name but a few.
We have a lovely forest walk just outside the village at Kilbride and another up Ballyboy Hill. We have cool named roads to walk such as the Fairy Lane and Tea Pot lane. But do not dare to walk the Fairy Lane past midnight or you will be stuck there until Sunrise! After that enjoy the fairy lane walk to the village and back and your steps for the day will be covered.
Before Covid put a halt to things, our annual field day would be held in the school grounds and is always a winner and great day to be had by all, young and old, with the whole community coming together to donate, participate and confabulate.
The many fundraisers held by the local people, giving up and dedicating their time freely to help further on desperately needed projects, like improving the church, the community centre, the GAA or helping those that are sick.
We have builders, carpenters, hairdressers, beauty therapists and bakers to name but a few of the tradesmen and craftsmanship that goes on here. We have a community Facebook page to ask, advise and advertise anything and everything you wish.
The two pubs, Bob’s Bar and the Sawdust Inn, both family friendly and welcoming and not only can you get a good Céad Míle Fáilte there, you can eat drink and be merry. Dance the night away to the varied entertainment they put on, and you can also do so in the knowledge that at the end of the night, if you are stuck for a lift home, the owners are only too happy to oblige.
As much as I didn’t like living in this village when I was a 14-year-old ‘blow in’ and swore, I would not I live here again, I am glad that I did, with a renewed appreciation for country living.
I raised my family here, and was happy to do so. But now, I guess I am seeking another new life and meet other new souls, perhaps in a new state and maybe a bit more hustle and bustle.
It just feels like my time here has come to a natural end with the end of raising my children, who are off on their own discoveries.
I hope that the people that come to live in my house, not only appreciate and enjoy the house but the village that it is in and all it has to offer.
Who decides whether you are fat or thin, chunky or skinny. Are you influenced by what others perceive you to be, or do you decide?
I’m getting fat. Not fat, fat exactly, but fatter than I was. Having said that, what do people consider fat?
I was always skinny. The skinny bitch. I didn’t think I was skinny, but I didn’t think I was fat. I was just me and my size was just my size. I was lean, yes but I didn’t think anything about it because, like I said, I was just me.
So now, I am still me, just a bigger version of me than I was, when I was younger, so, am I fat?
No, not really, though I do have a spare tyre, my upper arms are definitely bigger and softer, my thighs are bigger too and they wobble, they didn’t used to wobble. My ass, well let’s say, now I have an ass, so before I had a small ass, never the less, it was still an ass. My face is rounder and I have more than one chin. When I was the skinny bitch, I could, if I tried hard enough and put my face down towards my neck, make myself have more than one chin,
It is called skin, lean with pockets of fat cells in it and maybe some muscle. I used to have muscle, when I was the skinny bitch. I did lots of hand stands and cart wheels and other gymnastic tricks. I loved gymnastics at school. My friend and I were both good at it. We were the skinny bitches.
We remained the skinny bitches even after we had children without even trying.
I went even thinner after my first baby, all that breastfeeding. It gave her colic. I thought it was what I was eating, so in the end I ate very little. She still had colic. I put her on the bottle as I had to eat and something had to give. She took the bottle and the colic went, but the constipation came. She still screamed in pain.
It was a lose-lose situation for her, and a win lose for me. Win because I could now eat again, the cabbage, potatoes, salad cream etc. that everyone said was probably giving her colic. I lost because she was still screaming and I felt it was my fault for putting her on the bottle and the poor child was still in pain….
I started to get fat when I was in my early 40’s. Actually I think I started to change, ever so slightly, from my early 30’s, I think I gained about 7 pound from when I was in my teens. I didn’t try to gain these pounds, they just arrived, slowly and without much encouragement or notice from me. I was still a skinny bitch you see.
By my early 40’s I had gained another 7 pound. Still I think I looked pretty good in the mirror, even though, that is a whole stone in a 10-year period. I was beginning to ‘fill out’. I was also noticing that my skin was changing, slightly. I was getting fine lines and the elasticity was beginning to loosen I suppose. That’s ok, it does that with age.
By my early 50’s I had gained another 14 pound and from 50 to 55 another 7 pound. So from my teens I had gained two and a half stone and like they say, it crept up on me.
I am not blind. I could see my body changing shape. My face, rounder, my boobs fuller, my belly definitely fatter, my arms, my legs, my whole body. Still, I was me. I am not fat. I am fatter than my skinny bitch days, yes, but I am not fat. I don’t know when I will consider myself fat but I know this. Some people, thinner than me, will look at me and say that I am fat.
Some people, bigger than me, will look at me and say that I am skinny.
I will say, I have more fat on me than when I was skinny, but, I am still me and I am happy with who I am. Like my skin that is ageing, my hair that is greying, my body is changing as it naturally does with age.
I am glad to be ageing, it means that I am alive and that I can chose, every day, what I do with my day. I can choose to look in the mirror and say ‘hey, you are fifty something and still fabulous’ or I could criticise how I look and feel bad about myself. I chose the former not the latter.
The moral of this story is, just because you are the size that you are, you have to decide whether or not, you are happy with you. So long as you are healthy and have a healthy view of yourself in your own mind and can embrace your own body, wobbly bits and all, or bones and all, don’t let it consume you.
Other people will always have their opinions, it’s either colic or constipation, skinny bitch or fatty. You decide, yourself, what label you want to put on you……
Big boys don’t cry…… This to me is a damaging statement, because boys have feeling too and like us girls should be able to be free to express how they feel…. right?
I collected my grandson from school last week. He thought he was staying in after-school club because his mother was working, but I rang and told her that I would collect him early and bring him over to his aunts house, so he could see and play with his cousins. He hadn’t seen them in a few weeks as both my daughters have been busy with work and other commitments.
When he was in the car I asked him if he was surprised that he was being collected early and he said he was, because he thought he would have to stay in all day. He is only 6 years old, I might add. He also had to be dropped to school early for breakfast club, so that his mother could get to work on time, so it can be a long day for him.
As I looked at him through the rear view mirror, I thought he looked pale, tired and also he looked like he had been crying. I asked him if he had been crying to which he replied no. I said ‘oh you look tired, maybe that is it’. He confirmed yes he was a bit tired as he had been in school for breakfast club.
I asked him how he felt when the teacher told him that ‘nanny’ was collecting him early. He then said that he was happy and excited and that he remembers now that he did cry then, ‘happy tears’ and that he could feel the tears coming again now because we were going to see his cousins and he was happy about that.
This made me feel both happy and sad. I know lots and lots of working mothers have to avail of child care so they can work, before school and after school. I had to do it myself when my girls were little. It’s not easy to do, to juggle, but it is the life for many working mothers. I couldn’t help but feel sad a little because it is a long day for him. I also felt happy that he could express himself. He is very good at articulating what he thinks and feels.
I told him it was OK to cry, whether they are happy or sad tears, as that is the Emotion, he was feeling at that time. ‘What’s emotion’ he asked me, looking back at me in the mirror. I explained that when we feel happy or sad, angry, excited or frightened for example, our body reacts somehow to that emotion.
‘So when you were told you were leaving early you felt happy and excited and your body reacted by your eyes welling up and having happy tears. Likewise, sometimes when you feel angry, you might shout and your body might also want to slam a door, punch the pillow or throw the toy’ I said, eyeing him carefully in the mirror as we drove.
‘You might also cry because you feel angry because you are frustrated, same as when you feel sad and upset you may cry. That is your body’s way of dealing with the feeling and that is what ’emotion’ is.
I explained how the body also reacts when hungry, in that it lets us know by our tummy growing and rumbling, that it is your body telling you it needs food.
‘oh, he said, so sometimes I get ‘hangry’ when I want food and so does mammy’ he said, matter of fact. ‘ Yes I said, that’s right, when you are hungry you very well may get a little agitated and angry, because it’s your bodies way of saying ‘feed me’.
I explained that emotions are good to have as it helps people see or read how another person is feeling by the way the person looks or by the way a person is acting and that lets us help, if any help is needed.
I asked him to think of his mother and how that makes him feel. He closed his eyes, his face softened and he smiled saying ‘I love my mammy’ as he opened his eyes looking at me in the mirror.
See, that is emotion I said, and your face, your voice and your body all reacted to that feeling, so don’t be afraid to cry, whether happy or sad or angry tears because that is just your body reacting to your feeling and that shows other people how you are.
It made me think about boys and crying and how they are sometimes told ‘big boys don’t cry’ or man up as they get older, especially into their teen years. This in particular concerns me. Why is it viewed that it is OK for girls to cry, but not boys.
I am quite the feminist and all for strong independent women and for equality and parity , but I also believe it is OK for girls/women to cry, AND also for boys/men.
They say that women can ‘cope’ a lot better with life’s stresses because they talk to their female friends and ‘offload’ about how they are feeling. A problem shared and all that.
Shouldn’t we be teaching our boys that not only is it OK to cry, it is essential, so as not to suppress that natural emotion that they are feeling, for to do so, they are denying a fundamental biological process. If they denied themselves food, when they are hungry, they would starve.
With so many mental health problems, especially amongst young men, isn’t it crucial that, from a very young age, we not only say it is OK to cry, WHETHER happy or sad tears, but it is essential and normal, as it is the body’s way of dealing with the feeling?
I would hate to think that my grandsons, when they are going through the rigours of the teenage years, when they are trying to navigate puberty, emotions, fitting in and identity, that they would feel that they cannot openly cry, without fear of being called a ‘sissy’ a ‘girl’ a ‘whimp’ for example, by their peers. It makes me want to cry!
Why is is OK for girls and not boys? What is wrong with showing emotion. In my mind, it is a sign of strength, not weakness to be able to express oneself, in order to be true to oneself and to feel whole. To suppress any emotion is damaging and the last thing we want to do to ourselves, to our children, is to damage them, right?
So, I say to all the boys out there, when your body wants to cry, whether they are happy or sad tears, go ahead and cry the same as you would laugh, if you saw something funny, the same as you would feed your body, when it is hungry. Not only does it give you a release to cry, it allows someone close to you to try to help and share the burden/problem with you in the sad tears as well as the joy in the happy tears.
There is pure strength in being in touch with your feelings and in my mind any boy/man than can openly cry and express or try to express how he is feeling, is a man I would want in my life, because it lets me know he is honest, open and compassionate.
If anything I prefer dogs over cats. Having said that, I wouldn’t be cruel or leave them out. So what do you do with a stray???
We always had dogs, growing up, in our our house. Most of them your usual mongrel or mixed breed, whichever you prefer to call them. We loved them and they loved us.
When my eldest girl was 8 years old I promised her I would get her a dog. We were moving to Ireland and I intended to be home more, taking a part time job, instead of working full time. This would be a factor in getting a dog, so it wouldn’t be on its own all day.
We go a lovely mixed breed dog and called her Sally. Half sheep dog half collie and she looked like an old English Sheep dog. She was such a loyal and friendly dog and we had her for 10 years. It was pure heart break when she died. So much so I swore I would never get another.
People often say that after drinking too much and getting so drunk. They swear they will never touch the drink again. Like the drunk, with his self promised promises, I did indeed relent and get another dog a few years after Sally died.
This time it was at the begging of my other children (twins) who at the time were 14. We got a little miniature Yorkshire terrier and called her Indiana. She was cute. Not very smart, but cute and she was loved. Sadly, she came to a very sad end and was hit by a car after getting out of the drive. It was torture and we were all devastated…. again
‘Never again’ I said, and I meant it. It is too heartbreaking.
Again, I relented. A year or so after Indiana died, my eldest asked me if I would take a little west highland terrier, who would face certain death if I didn’t….. Well that isn’t blackmail….. much!
I took the said little Westie, Jack, and he too became part of the family and stole our hearts. He was 6 months old when we got him, but by the time he was 12, he was quite ill and deteriorated very quickly. We prepared ourselves to be heartbroken again. Indeed, we were. That was 15 months ago now, and I can categorically say, I will not have another dog. It is too too sad knowing, that they will pass before you and I don’t want to set myself up again for heartache. However, watch this space!
During the years of the dogs we have also been frequented by stray cats…. It started with the farmer at the bottom of our garden. He had cats, but they would wander down to us and of course, we began to feed them as they always seemed hungry and anyway, they are good to keep the mice and rats away.
After the farmer died the cats were taken by the WSPCA to be re-homed. However the odd stray would still come and hang around our house. As we live in the Country I would feed them as they are a good deterrent for the mice and rats.
Rusty has been coming to us now for a few years. We feed him daily and tend to his medical needs when he has gotten into a scrape, but he is feral and goes away after feeding, grateful for his daily nosh. Sometimes he hangs about in the yard, but he is a bit of a loner.
About 6 months ago or so, a black cat appeared. Quite a friendly cat with a lovely shiny coat. I advertised on all the local platforms trying to find its owner but to no avail. he would come, around the same time as Rusty and then off he would trot, back down the drive and to, well I am guessing, his own home.
Cats are like that aren’t they, they like to wander off.
Anyway, not only was he coming ‘at feeding time’, he would now push rusty out of the way and start eating his food. Well, I couldn’t have that, so reluctantly, I would also put a plate out for him. I couldn’t let him watch on, and not give him anything.
Black cat, affectionately named Blacky, how original, is cheeky though and if we leave open a window, will climb in and lay up on a bed or a sofa like he is King of the hill. What a cheek!
Rusty, wouldn’t have the same amount of cheek or nerve, he is far more ‘reserved’ and not so presumptuous or impertinent as Blacky.
This morning, I went to go out the door to feed them. Both of them on the step, waiting and the black cat, actually had the nerve to slap poor old rusty in the face to get him out of the way, so he could get the lion’s share. I was utterly gobsmacked!
Because of this I wrote a little ditty….. I hope you enjoy it!
I feed these cats
They are not my cats
But aside from that, which is a fact
I feed these cats
I don’t like cats
But they are good scare the rats
So I feed the cats
So they can do that
1st came the ginger one
Feral, shy, coy
I’m only grateful, that he is a boy
Takes his food then off he goes
To where I wonder,
Then came blacky
He is black
He is a more forward cat
He is not at all shy, not one little bit
In fact, I would say, he is a cheeky little git
He pushes in first when I open the door
Knocks rusty out the way
Hoping he will get more
He is quite a greedy black cat
I cannot say much more than that
Soon as he’s fed off he goes, strutting
Wagging his tail, and swaging his but
In all the style like a cat walk model
Unlike rusty with his old man waddle
Sits on the bench like he is the boss
Licking his fur and shakes off the dross
Sits all day, til he gets a more peckish
And scratches at the door like it’s some sort of fetish
I looked out once and guess what I saw
Roland rat scurrying on all fours
Blacky the cat, didn’t even blink an eye
Let old Roland just strut on by
Am I too soft or feeding these too much
Cos I’m sure it’s nature they should hunt their lunch
Off he goes not even a hissing sermon
Coming from the cat to this passing vermin
Rusty plods back late in the evening
Head hung low, as if he’s been grieving
Jumps up on the window sill
Patiently waiting for me to give in
Black cat though has no such reserve
Can’t even open a window, cos in he will swerve
He has no shame nor decent good manners
I do protest and I don’t mean with banners
I chase him out like a cat and mouse game
I’m sure he’s laughing cos he has no shame
He’s quite cunning that little black cat
But he won’t best me you can be sure of that
Rusty comes like a big drowned rat
When the heavens open, but I let this cat
Come in side and eat his grub
He seems so grateful and I give him a rub
Mr black cat I swear has a home
He’s Just so greedy he comes here to roam
Costing me a fortune, cos I couldn’t leave him out
When I’m buying all the cat food to share it about.
Interviews are never easy. We turn up looking smart and hope to give the best impression. They do, after all, make their mind up in the first 90 seconds, if we will cut the mustard….
Ever been to an interview….. Remember how it felt. Nervous tension, butterflies in your tummy and sweaty palms perhaps. It’s daunting. But, you know you can do the job as laid out in the job description. You have the skills. They know what they are looking for in a person to fulfill the position, and they will scrutinise your resume and do some fault finding, before deciding whether or not you ‘have the job’
Did you ever take the job and then after a while, realise that it wasn’t actually for you. That you didn’t really feel welcomed by other members of staff or that you just didn’t like the way that they did things. Perhaps it just grated on you and wore you down. That it didn’t seem how it first appeared in your mind as to how it would be? The demands were more than you believed they would be and the sacrifice was ultimately too much, so you left.
We are lucky if we can do that, just hand in our notice and leave. Is it luck or is it that we are free? We are free to leave.
Remember as a child doing what your parents asked you to do. Eating what was put in front of you. Dressing in the clothes that your mother bought for you and conforming to all the rules of the house, until you became a teenager and perhaps rebelled a bit.
Did you always agree with your parents? I doubt it, I know I didn’t. Did you feel that you could have your say, particularly when you were now an adult child, and be heard, listened to and valued? Did your parents always welcome with open arms your friends or partners of choice? Or were there times that you felt let down by them so you perhaps agreed to disagree. You are after all, now an adult.
Did you have the freedom to leave home though, and be with your partner of choice, because you loved them and wanted to be with them, share a life with them and make decisions with them about your life together. Aren’t we lucky if we can answer yes?
I love the T.V series The Crown. I watched every episode and I had a great new found respect for the Queen and what she had to endure, sacrifice and do in order to be ‘The Queen’ . I felt sorry for her and for other members of the Royal family for the sacrifices they have had to make in order to be a Royal.
I know some of it is fiction, but you can see the constraints, the privilege, turning of a blind eye, the bullying and dismissing of peoples rights and feelings. I felt that so much when I watched it.
‘The Crown must come first’, is what the Queen would say. But at what cost? ‘The crown’ costs lives. Lived ‘freely’ lives. I pity those born into that life for their choices are not really of their own making. If they are, somehow they will be punished because of them.
Charles finally got to marry the woman he always wanted to marry, but couldn’t, was not allowed to, because she wasn’t deemed suitable. She had a past. She wasn’t royal enough. So he married Diana instead and ruined his own and her life. He did however, get his fairy tale ending. He got the bride he wanted, but he did pay dearly for it. The crown must come first.
I wonder the impact on their two boys growing up in such a loveless marriage. Fueled with anger and resentment. It would absolutely have made an impact on them and perhaps made them realise that love is worth more than ‘The Crown’.
We saw it with Edward and Mrs Simpson. He abdicated for love. He sacrificed a lot for love.
I still really respect the Queen, she has a very tough job and is dictated to by rules and must conform to the rules, even though it may hurt her and/or her family.
I watched ‘The Interview’ last night and my opinion is that I saw two people who love each other. Want a life together, free from scrutiny or control and raise their children. Sounds like most of us?
I see so much hate on social media and in the media, particularly directed at Meghan. I am shocked by this. I had never heard of her, before she met Harry. I had never watched Suits. I was however, happy for him that he met someone to share his life with.
He had a tough time dealing with the death of his mother, as did William. They have endured so much as the children of Charles and Diana. They have heard so many stories, good bad and indifferent all their lives, by people in the media and otherwise, and that cannot have be easy or without negative impact.
In my humble opinion, I think Harry did right to stand by his wife, and try to take a bit more of a back seat in his Royal duties. Taking a back seat wasn’t allowed, so now they are standing on their own two feet. They, I feel, have the right to say how they feel or felt.
I don’t think they were awfully disparaging or disrespectful. Only they know how they feel or felt. We cannot tell them how they feel. We cannot tell them how they should live, what they should or shouldn’t say. We can’t tell the Queen or any of the Royal family for that matter, how they should feel either.
Meghan may have gone in with her eyes (naively) open, thinking she had the skills:- maturity, willing to learn, strength, good work ethic, conforming to new rules, being told what to do and when to do it, for example, but then realised, that actually, no she didn’t have those skills after all, that it was too much, that she was at breaking point. She now also had a child to think about. This was a far cry from the life she was used to or from the one she thought she was getting into, but she tried and did so with dignity.
Also, Harry must have anticipated, on some level, that Meghan, entering the Royal family would not be a ‘walk in the park’ and he must have considered what he would do, should she not be able for ‘the job’. They were not teenagers getting married, they were grown up 30 somethings….
Also, Harry, having seen what ‘that life’ did to his mother, took action and tried to stand by and support his wife, like a loving and loyal husband should do. Is that bad?
People are always going to be divided but at the end of the day, people don’t have to live his life, or Meghans, or the Queens or any of the Royal familiy. I think though, the level of vitriol targeted at them, especially Meghan, is actually disgusting.
People saying she deserves an oscar, she’s acting, she had this plan all along….. How do they know that? I believe her intentions were good and she hoped she would be able for the life she thought she would be entering when she joined the Royal family. Like any ‘job’ it shouldn’t have to define you or hold you to ransom. You should be able to walk away.
I think Harry, walking away from his family to live a ‘more free’ life will be easier for him to endure, if they remain somewhat estranged, than it would have been for Meghan to stay within the confines of the restrictive rules of the Royal family, and feel suffocated, unsupported and undervalued.
I say good luck to them and good luck to the Queen. Their lives are not easy and I am just thankful, that I am a ‘nobody’, making my own life choices, speaking freely my own mind and living on my own terms.
For those people that think they have a right to add negatively to Harry and Meghan’s mental health, I say think again and be careful with your words. I am sure you would have something to say if they told you how you should live, how you should do things etc.
It is none of our business, at the end of the day, so on that note, I wish them all well and hope they all find peace and heal the rifts between them, in time.
The best thing to learn is everything takes time, it’s a matter of knowing how to use it
None of us know how long or short our time will be on this planet. Some go way too young and others stay beyond a century. I hope to be in the latter. One thing I do know, is that the planet we live on is a place of wonder and beauty. It is ever changing but continually provides a beautiful landscape. Sometimes it rages and causes havoc. Is it angry or simply shifting its focus? Other times it is calm, serene and magical. In moments of time we are the same as this planet. Like a spectrum we can gravitate from one end of the scale to another, depending on our circumstances, our thoughts, opinions, influences and other environmental factors. It is a continuum, time is not static. It does not stand still, even after we leave, time continues and the sun rises and falls and night follows day. Again and again it goes on, in spite of the storms and in spite of the droughts. So it is, that we must do the same. We must carry on in spite of the chaos, in spite of the hurt, in spite of the disappointments, the successes and the failures. Life throws us curve balls and it is up to us what we do with them. We cannot avoid them totally and they will have an impact, but we can work around them, and continue to move forward.
Time is a precious thing in that it never runs out and we can make choices and decisions, and if we screw up and cause havoc like the storms, we know it can be cleaned up, renewed and a new day will dawn and brighter days will follow.
We are heading into a new year and this year we are dealing with and bringing Corona Virus with us. It will not disappear at midnight. There is no fairy godmother that can banish it away or give it wings to fly itself away. We will still wake up in our lock downs with our restrictions and precautions and for that we will feel sad, disappointed and angry, but we know that it will not last forever. We know and have to believe we will get it under control, it is just a matter of time and we must be patient, vigilant and not complacent.
During this time we may have found lots of things to be positive about, thankful for and appreciative of, and so going into the new year, we must remain positive and hang on to those positive thoughts. Trust that a new day is dawning and in time, we can obliterate this virus and in the meantime count our blessings of what we have and who we have in our lives and lets also enjoy the beauty of our planet and nature.
And the leaves fall down They are crisp under foot Exposing the landscape The colours are changing Bright beautiful hues gnarly branches this way and that a bird in clear sight the shroud has gone uncovering the sound of its lamenting sweet song the dogwood is flaming showcasing red twigs spectacular specimen without its coat but oh, the beech impressively noble draped in copper, draped in gold what a sight it is to behold autumn or fall, a season of beauty wool knit jumpers and welly boots pounding in puddles and dancing with leaves long country walks drink in the fresh air sighs of long deep released breaths of beauty and loss of life and death a stage of renewal new aspect and time preparation, perception yours, theirs and mine