Apart from sleeping and watching beautiful Norway and Alaska being backdrops to a couple of things on TV, I've been reading a book that is partly in a language quite foreign to me (sailorly talk about nautical things) and partly in the language it sometimes feels as if only I know - the one that goes on inside a head uninterrupted by human conversation or contact for swathes of time. I give thanks for descriptions of water and sky and creatures and light, for appreciation of subtleties that can get nudged aside by natter...and I resolve to appreciate this solitary perception more as, though in our crowded connected world it becomes rarer and less intelligible to those involved in joined up thinking and being, it is (literally!) unspeakably precious.
I give thanks for putting the Christmas leftovers in my beautiful Christmas tins, and taking down the tinsel that's been trying to fall down for a while. For the smell of a baked potato, and that the bin men have been. I give thanks for all the parties I've danced at, for new years that started with a kiss. For Sidney's fireworks (always awesome) and for the folk who put them on Youtube, and that later, if the wind and rain are kind, I'll hear the cheer from town and maybe see a rocket or two...
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