How have you been? Are you pleased we've got to the end of January?
The sun is shining here as I write, thank goodness.
I wrote you a post this morning about my progress on the taking-myself-in-hand agenda but it was so dull I deleted it. I will just say that I'm still having the 30 second cold showers before the hot one; and that the next best thing on the list has been reading a poem before I get out of bed, because it resets my brain after reading the unremittingly awful news.
Enough of that - my New Year apathy has gone and I've even got round to replacing the terrible pots that were on the doorstep with these.
|'and life slips by like a field mouse not shaking the grass'|
And for the last two weeks I've been working on a new large painting of grass. It's not finished yet, but I thought I'd show you anyway. It's hard, though, to decide which photo of it to show you. The light makes such a difference.
I'll leave you with the concluding sentence of a piece in our village newspaper from a young farmer whose father died a month ago and who has been getting to grips with all the jobs on the farm without him: