Outdoors again

Do you ever get those days? You’re inside thinking everything about winter is miserable. It looks cold, wet, and dull outside and your fingertips are freezing because you’re trying to save the pennies and the planet. Your life seems as constipated as a bowl of nuts and you think; sod it! You need a change.

This was me this morning. To make matters worse, no phone and no internet, probably because of a tractor backing into the telegraph pole, knocking it sideways and stretching the cable tighter than knicker elastic. So not being able to procrastinate by surfing the net I decided to abandon all attempts at writing and go and find work outside.

The first thing that hits me is the scent. Wonderful! Whooshing up my nose like a tonic. It smells of wet washed leaves and fungi. Damp garden gates and old apples. Such sweet succour after last night’s onions lingering unwanted up my nostril hair.

Next, as I rummage in the rottings on the soil I uncover next year’s daffodils. Brave pert shoots have pushed up despite the garden doing an impression of a graveyard – dead and forgotten. There they were; these spikes of fresh green which not even wicked weather can hold back.

Then, the sun peeps out. Every droplet is ignited and instead of appearing sadly sodden everything is suddenly sparkling better than a Christmas tree and there are no remnants of the grumpy indoor woman who’s in danger of turning into Miss Haversham. Instead there’s a sprightly young thing with rosy cheeks and an even rosier disposition who remembers that if she gets off her arse and out of her mindset there’s an outdoor tonic always waiting with inevitable changes just around the season!


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