2020 is finally staggering to a close and what a remarkable year it has been for many different reasons.
It seems we are all just “done” with the whole thing and are now firmly focused on the next couple of weeks in order to bring a bit of sparkle and cheer back into our homes and to wish the wishiest of wishes that 2021 will be so much better.
I am “done” too, but before December is kicked into a corner in order for January to come lolloping in with a healthy dump of snow just to remind us that, yes, we do live in the Northern Hemisphere and that we really should be more prepared, I consider what I like about this particular time of year.
I love the fresh, clear light which sets the autumn trees on fire as they slowly change into glowing jewels for no reason other than why not? Children’s rosy faces in bright wellies stomping through puddles and kicking the fallen leaves.
I observe the green and red of the holly bushes, so bright they look still wet with paint, the fat robin rustling and bustling amongst the branches.
Industrious squirrels scampering along the ground and then free-running up the bark of a tree, only to pelt my confused dog with acorns. The frosted ground sparkles in first light and in the quiet dark of midnight as I head out to my car.
Sometimes, the fog swirls and moves along the ground, dampening down noises until even the fox’s harsh cry sounds less harsh and far away.
Sometimes the night is icy clear, the deepest of ink-black velvet, peppered with the glitter of a countless stars and endless galaxies.
This is the season of change and patient waiting. Waiting for the warmer times, the longer days and for new dreams to begin.