One of my new favourite things this week is sitting on my floor. It sounds odd, I know, but when I have breakfast or lunch, I like holding my warm bowl (or, more often than not, my saucepan) on my lap with a spoon in hand, sitting and looking out of the window. There is a big tree outside my window which has lost all of its leaves, so you can see the moss on its branches.
Yesterday I watched the people walking along the footpath my room overlooks, and realised I didn't see a single person walking who looked as if they enjoyed walking. They all looked like they were in a hurry to get their bodies where their minds already were. I certainly know how that feels.
Another day, my eyes followed the cloud-tail of (what I suppose was) a jet plane in the sky, trying to see how long it took to get from its place in the sky to the outer rim of tree branches. I lost it in another cloud before it touched the tree, but the arc it left was more beautiful than anything I have ever drawn with a curve ruler.
Sitting with my head tilted slightly upwards this morning, looking at the naked tree patiently waiting for its leaves to come back, I happy-sighed and realised how content I am. I am awashed in love.
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