It's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die ... and I say someone here even though the one in question was a dog - but to us he had character and a place forever in our hearts and was more of a familiar someone than some of the people in our lives. So, I'll start again - it's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die, our senses go into overdrive. We notice things that normally would be part of the background of our every day. We breathe more - or rather, we don't but what we do is notice our breathing more, as we watch his. We pause. We think. We listen to ourselves and our inner voices speak. Memories flood our dreams ... though sleep is fitful. Why am I telling you this? ... ... we lost this beautiful boy today And in the hours before he went, I saw perfect spheres of dew on blades of grass - little orbs holding micro-images of our world; a bumble bee drunk on nectar, yellow-dusted with pollen, resting in a crocus; ten - yes, ten!
Do you ever have one of those early-in-the-New-Year days when Christmas is over; the house is empty and in that state of untidiness that lies somewhere between chaos and happily messy; there are leftovers filling the fridge, and new books to read, but despite all these things, nothing quite goes according to whatever plan you might have tentatively planned for the day? - o ne of those short January days, when you are uncomfortably aware of a list beginning to evolve inside your head which promises (!) to be The List of the year - The One that will unlock your creative potential, super-charge your motivation and place you on a wobbly and barbed pedestal entirely of your own making. A list that, based on previous form, you'll have shredded into a hundred-thousand tiny pieces before you even reach the middle of January. Hmm ... yes, the kind of day perhaps, from which you'd quite like to escape? - the kind of day filled from an hour before first light - owing to the ca