Things Pending

Apart from revising my short stories, I'm doing reading prep for the Oxford writing seminars, hence, I feel like a novice again. Some trepidation, which I have, is not usual when there are blank spaces to be filled. My days now consist of writing in the mornings, the usual home tasks have the afternoons, and evenings are taken up with academic reading. Before sleep claims me, I allocate two hours to read in bed for pleasure. This pattern of working is bringing structure into my life again. Something I need and had missed near the end of last year.

The thrill of easing into early retirement has gone now. Think it was essential to be a sloth for a while, to just drift like flotsam. Have reading binges, and fritter my days away. But in doing too much of that I was becoming aimless - and - a stranger to myself. Last night, I met up with friends at the Red Lion pub. We talked about how teaching melds with our identity perceptions. Saying goodbye to a professional life never felt like a loss. I see now, that it can be. That void has to be filled with something more purposeful. We're on the threshold of carving new pathways for ourselves.

The winter months are confining. The daylight hours pass swiftly; the dark evenings are long shadows. Winter has never been my best season. Even so, I shouldn't spurn this natural cycle. Hidden in the settled loam, are the roots of life. It's heartening to see fresh shoots popping up here and there in the garden. A garden that otherwise, has a forlorn stillness. The birds are busy surviving. They have few songs to sing, not until spring is awake for their tunes. The old walnut tree is spindly, looking quite fragile. That tree fools me every year. It has a sudden surge, which turns it into a dancing green giant.

This morning, I spied a robin red breast. He caught my gaze, and quickly flew away. Before the afternoon swiftly vanishes, I'm off to Blue Barn Farm for cat food. Purrz......:)