These days we never know quite where to look for the mail. In the garage? Thrown in the side door? Through the cat flap? And very occasionally in the letterbox.
To be fair we do live in a house configured in a confusing way. And our latest postman is nervous of the dog.
The Good News is that I am back at work this week.
The Bad News is that my voice has decided it does not want to co-operate.
Tough!
As October disappears for another year, it is no longer possible to pretend that it is autumn. Or is it? The colours in the trees have suddenly decided to make a spectacular statement. The trees, hedgerows and grasses all join together in a cacophany of colour.
Colours of autumn: limpid green and lemon
blaring orange and gold
startling red, burgundy, brown
telling their story of survival, work and purpose.
No argument – only destiny and the hope of renewal.
But for now……sleep and beauty.
OK – so I am not as used to a house full of young people as once I was. And yes it is lovely to see (and hear) everyone. The most amazing thing is that I no longer respond to cries in the night. It used to be the case that a mere whimper from a toddler would jolt me awake and onto my feet before I knew what was happening. Now I seemingly sleep through 3-00am calls and half past six early morning starts.
Thank goodness.
Headlines on Yahoo News are all about the stormy weather disrupting travel, particularly by sea. It is strange to think that the Calmac Scottish ferries can be delayed or cancelled many times a year – and it rarely even reaches the local news. I guess we are a hardy lot up here.
Whilst on the telephone this morning, I looked out of my study window to see a small deer running through the field. Funny how a sight like that can lift the heart. Makes me remember a poem I used to know and repeat constantly to myself whilst in a hot classroom in a London school many moons ago.
My heart's in the highlands
My heart is not here
My heart's in the highlands
A-chasing the deer……
At that time I did not know anything of hunting, shooting and fishing…… still don't for that matter. All I knew was that I wanted to be in Scotland. Most of the time I like it here, even though I get very cross at some of our parochialism. (That is a euphimism for Parliament by the way.)
It seems no time at all since I bundled four children, two dogs and all their paraphernalia into the car to go and visit grandparents. This week we are looking forward to a visit from three of our grandchildren (and their parents of course!)
Oh how time flies.
I'll let you know if we last the pace.
I hate to admit it, but I used to make mock at everything Saga: holidays, discounts, action for older people…..
Now I look forward to reading the magazine each month.
Of course it helps that they seem to have lowered the age!
Brother Lawrence was a 17th century monk who specialised in being close to God in the everyday. His writings are a source of inspiration to countless busy people today.
The time of business does not with me differ
from the time of prayer, and in the noise
and clatter of my kitchen, while several
personas are at the same time calling for
different things, I possess God in as great
tranquillity as if I were upon my knees at
the blessed sacrament.
Faith is often nothing more than a series of doubts vanquished by love.
Michel Quoist
