Today felt like spring and I spent most of it in the garden, tidying up, transplanting seedlings and admiring the spring flowers.
No social distancing was necessary between me and nature, which is just as well, as the robins kept breaking the 2 metre rule, hopping around my feet in search of worms.
And now I feel so much better after a day outside!
New snow blankets a wall
which is the summer home
of one of the garden slow worms.
And right now, somewhere deep
in hidden parts of the garden
slow worms are curled up,
hibernating.
Do they switch off like a computer
one cool day in autumn
and switch back on in spring,
unaware of the passing of time?
Or do they slumber,
conscious of the seeping cold,
burrowing further below rocks,
pulling leaves over like a duvet
before sinking deeper into winter sleep?
And do they dream?
Snowdrops punctuate the January gloom.
Each year I am lifted by
this ordinary miracle.
I wrote this a few years ago. This year the snowdrops are even more welcome than usual.
Have you seen those blog posts
suggesting that you find
an inspiring word
for the year ahead?
So far, all I can think of is
‘hibernate’.
It would be nice to sleep
until spring this year!
The first few
white buds
of snowdrops
emerge
from frozen ground,
as lengthening
hazel catkins bring
a touch of yellow
to the hedgerows.
The evening stretches out
just a little,
and on those days when
winter cold recedes
slightly,
the birds sing
a different song,
louder,
livelier,
a prelude to spring.
It takes a while after the shortest day before I start to notice the light returning, reflected in the first few snowdrops and the changes in birdsong.
Snow, frost and silvery light have been a feature of my local walks recently. Now we are back in lockdown I’m walking the same local routes daily, and feeling grateful to live in such a beautiful part of the world.
Sheltering from
the cool north wind,
I share this bench,
and the last rays
of summer sun,
with a dragonfly.
No need to remember a technique,
fire up an app
or take a class.
Just go into the garden
and do what needs to be done.
A bit of weeding,
tidying the greenhouse,
watering tomatoes and cucumbers,
(there is always something
that needs attention).
Simply do the work,
at its own pace.
When the time is right,
find a spot to rest,
perhaps with a cup of tea.
Thoughts come,
(summer fresh butterflies dance between flowers)
thoughts go,
(there are a lot of dewy cobwebs around)
thoughts come,
(the asters are starting to flower)
thoughts go,
(I can still hear the swallows).
For a few mesmerising moments,
as the sun sets behind the beech tree,
leaf shadows dance on the wall.
I have been
lost
for words.
I have started so many blog posts recently but they just haven’t flowed. There is so much to say, yet the words get stuck.
In March I did my observed coaching assessment, I watched the pandemic spread as clients and coaches from around the world all entered lockdown at slightly different times, with slightly different rules. Coaching topics changed from things like ‘I’d like to get fitter’ or ‘how can I deal with x situation at work’, by week 2 of the assessment it was all about ‘how can I complete my work and homeschool my kids’, ‘ how can I make sure the underprivileged kids at the school I work in still get free school meals once the school closes, ‘what should I do now I can no longer run my business’. Staying centred enough to coach while being observed and assessed in the middle of all that was a challenge, somehow all 6 of us going through the assessment month all passed. What an achievement! At the end of it all I wanted to do was sleep.
And while all that was going on my work changed so I was full time working from home, only allowed out for one daily walk, and for essential shopping and healthcare.
Each day on my walk, it was as if spring had flicked a paintbrush overnight at the gardens, the verges and the woods. A splattering of colour at the beginning of March has turned into the full kaleidoscope of May.
And it is so peaceful here in the village. Hardly any cars on the roads, not as much noise as usual, fewer strimmers, lawnmowers, power tools, building work. The birds have taken over. This is what it must have been like pre-car, pre-industrial revolution, the soundtrack of most of human history. I love it. We have been lucky, the weather for most of the lockdown has been lovely and I’ve spent hours in the garden.
After the observed coaching month I then had to do a written exam, record a half hour coaching session for assessment, finish coursework. It’s all done now and hopefully I’ll graduate from the course at the end of May.
And now I have more time! Without really planning to, I’ve been painting. Experimenting with mixed media. Not really the kind of things I usually do, but I’m pleased with the results. So much fun to paint!
I had set today aside to start looking for more coaching clients. Instead I went for a longer daily walk than usual, pottered around the garden, finished my painting, wrote this. The goal of building my coaching business is important to me, but so is rest, relaxation, creativity. Attempting to find balance in the midst of a pandemic.
I hope you are keeping well and finding ways to cope with the situation we are all in. I know some of you have been writing through the last few months and I have enjoyed reading your posts.
Dawn chorus, courtesy of the birds outside my bedroom window at 5am.
Life in the Fresh Air 