Written 31st March 2024:

I measure my progress by nature’s timescales now.  When I first got sick I stayed in the realms of human time.   Will I be back at work tomorrow?  No?  Next week?  No?  End of the month? After Christmas?

From my bed I watched the beech tree slowly turn from green to yellow to orange and then reluctantly give up brown shrivelled leaves to the wind.  I saw a few stubborn leaves hang on into winter storms and wondered if I would still be in bed when the buds burst.

I heard the geese arrive, unseen.

Now, downstairs at last, through the window I see the buds on the apple tree that I can not yet reach. How far will I be able to walk when the apples ripen?  Will I have got to the end of the drive by then?

The chiffchaffs call incessantly, reminding me that they have been to Africa and back while I remained within these four walls.

The swifts were departing last summer when I fell ill. How will I be when they return?  And when they leave?  And next year, and the next?

I move at a slower pace now, life turning with the seasons, healing with forces that cannot be rushed.

Today’s update….on a good day I can now walk to the apple tree and the end of the drive. The swifts aren’t back yet (at least, I’ve not seen or heard any).