Living

The past couple of days feel like an eternity - the mounting tension, the resolution, and now the aftermath of the empty larder and the full suitcase (now more or less empty but still lying in the hall like a beached whale). Part of the eternity involved our going shopping before breakfast. I tried shopping on a Saturday morning not long ago and felt the Harpies must have got there ahead of me, so because we really needed some basics (like bread, and more milk, and tonight's dinner) we were out early. Early enough to be startled by the number of people doing the same - including two lots of friends - and by the onset of the Quiet Hour, when the lights are dimmed and the music stops; early enough not to be able to buy booze ...

Later, of course, I had to go out again: the supermarket was out of bread flour and I needed some.

By this afternoon it was raining heavily, a fact I didn't really appreciate until I was heading out for a walk. So the blip for today was taken in pouring rain, in a great hurry so' s not to get my phone wet. The subject of my photo has already taken to his heels, so the composition is poor and the hens, tastefully arranged in the bottom left beyond the red bucket, are almost out of the photo altogether. But I couldn't believe there were lambs already, that this dreadful winter must be coming to an end, that there was new life ...

Here's to their wee black faces, and here's to the sodden, grey mothers looking after them. And here's to living, among all that threatens us.