Wonderful Wednesday #94

What divides our days and some lovely things from lately.

I write so much about the weather. Maybe even more than I think about it. But it’s hard not to. It surrounds us each and every single day: It shapes our moods, seeps into our bones even when there are layers and layers and layers between it and our bare skin. It’s the air we breathe in each day and alive in the world that subtly and gently changes right before us whether we notice it or not and, as one day becomes another, one month the next and as the year keeps on turning.

Even if we have evolved a lot and invented ways and means to warm and to light our homes and, to be able to exist more comfortably alongside it; we have little choice but to let it in because without it we wouldn’t be here. The weather tells us of the season, it influences the food we eat, the ancient festivals and celebrations we still mark and even our own internal rhythms. Without these sometimes-signs and signals we’d feel lost, untethered and unable to distinguish one month from another - even more.

Lately has been lost under a never-ending feeling rain cloud. A misty cloak of damp has swallowed up most days. As if the lack of light wasn’t enough to already blur the days which, now seem less and less each day already; this unwelcome dampness means that each one has been even more grey and even shorter-feeling, as I cycle or walk from and into the next with my head mostly down and moving as quickly as I can.

There’s been a strange unseasonal mildness alongside the grey and the wet that’s been the most unsettling though. I might have made peace with the relentless rain and wet had there been a brisk cold breeze or dusting of frost amongst it. If November simply felt November-y. Were it not for the lack of light and the bits of Christmas also seeping in to each day I wouldn’t have believed it was November at all. It’s another reminder how much I lean on the seasons and maybe even on the weather too, even if I hadn’t noticed it before now.

But Monday does become Tuesday and so on because we’ve little choice in that either and sometimes it’s a good job because we can’t dwell and dawdle and hide from the gloominess even if we want to. It’s during these sorts of days that I look for other and new ways to divide them. I find ways to relish the best bits, the smaller joys and those gentle rituals that seem ever more special and precious come this time of year.

Here are a list of some of the things I have been most grateful for these days. I hope it inspires you to pause and think of a few for yourself too.

1 Re-reading. So much of ‘Now’ (Christmas, our modern life, our fast and disappearing world!!!) focusses on the next and the new and we spend so little of our time simply, being here in the now. This week I began re-reading a book I have read maybe at least three times now (‘Cacophony of Bones” by Kerri ni Dochartaigh - a beautiful, rich and deeply moving novel that could be poetry or prose - read it!) and each time I do I remember why re-visiting your own bookshelf is sometimes all you need. How re-reading a book again when life has been lived and maybe even I am not the same as i was when i first turned its pages means I absorb and take it in, in a new-feeling way.

2 A rare two hours of non-rain that fell (or not!) quite perfectly on our morning pup walk. The sky broke, the clouds peachy for mere moments and a beautiful curl of low cloud clung to the dewy marshes in a way that will never fully do itself justice in photo form. I’m sharing it anyway.

3 Fairylights. When do they not cheer up wherever they’re scattered?! I don’t really decorate for Christmas since our house is not much bigger than a shoebox but, I’ll always make room for some seasonal branches gathered on a walk and some fairylights.

4 Still mornings. A nudge after 5:30am which, has just sort of become a habit. I’m leaning into sleeping a little earlier at night just so I can own some of that special morning stillness before most of the world stirs. My mind has more room to unravel and I so treasure a cup of tea and some quiet just the pup and I.

5 Apple crumble and custard. An oat-y and buttery crumble with caramelised apples tucked in under it and baked until they’re bubbling and toffee-like.

6 The sheer joy of racing down the other side of a steep hill that you’ve just cycled all of the way up. It never gets old!

What smaller moments and could-be unforgotten joys are you most grateful for these days? I’d so love to know and for you to share here. If you’ve read this today just know I’m grateful every single time but especially this time. Inboxes are full and minds are busy at this time of year and so consider this a double thank you!

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