The sun first thing in the morning often slants at a low angle through these trees, yellowing them and glowing straight in my window. Steam furls up from the cup of tea at my side, my boy has just left for school, and I have twenty minutes or so before getting Wee Madam up to just sit, watching the sky and gathering wool.
No sound interrupts this. Him Indoors and Wee Madam are still asleep. I can’t abide the intrusion of TV or radio in the morning, so all is silent, and I’m happy.
I’ve watched the trees turn from bare, to green, to gold, to bare. I’ve seen the sun, the sky, in every perfect, glorious combination.
Not working is rubbish, but at least each of my days starts with this little oasis of perfect time. I’ve never had that before.