Dusk, Part Two

Remember when I mentioned the beautiful dusk the other day? I'd used a random picture of the sky that day because I hadn't had the chance to take one myself... But today I did.

Beautiful, isn't it?

If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has power to move you, if the simple things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive.
Eleonora Duse

x

Dusk

...and then I looked out the window at 17.00 and realised the sky had a glow to it that wasn't there at the same time of day just a week ago. The days are starting to lengthen and that fills me with hope. Every year, the moment I realise the days are lengthening - even just a little bit, something magical happens. It never fails.
It's that quiet feeling called Perfection.

The One About British Weather

Allow me to address a common - and grating - misconception about
English weather...

England is a rather large country (compared to what I know - see below). David and I live in the South where, admittedly, weather is far more favourable than the North. And I suspect it is the North people mostly associate British weather with.

But, speaking for the part of the country I know, it is not always raining. It is not always gray. Take today, for example: a perfectly beautiful sunny day in December - perfect weather for people to be out galavanting in the streets dressed up in corsets for the Dickensian Christmas Festival. It is a high of 12 or 13 degrees celsius and no more than a few wisps of cirrus clouds for miles. And just like this one, there are plenty other days like it.

The summers are beautiful. And if I, coming from a hot Mediterranean island country, can say this, there must be some truth to it, non? Sure, there's more rain than there'd be in summer back home (read: none), but balance is a good thing, is it not?

So really... 'England = gray and rain' is not quite right. And frankly, even when it is gray and rainy, all you need to do is appreciate the plush green areas that would not be able to exist without some rain. So the next time someone in Malta or anywhere else passes a sarcastic remark about British weather when I mention that it's a gorgeous day, I'll simply be directing them to this post, and be done with it.

And as I sit here, with the central heating off and windows ajar to let the house breathe in the perfectly crisp air, I hope that this has been at least slightly educational. (And listen to me obsessing about the weather! Could I be any more British than this?!)

educationally,

My Ode to Winter

In the shower, I love to stand under running water that is far too hot to be safe. It feels like a blanket wrapped around me and if I could postpone turning the water off for hours, I would. Then clothes that have been warmed over the radiator. Dress up so warm that the cold cannot get to me when it wraps around me as I step out of the house - save for my cheeks, turning rosy in the cold - a feeling that wakes me up and makes me feel so alive that even if it's just for one moment, everything is just perfectly... perfect ♥

perfectly,

The Case of the Missing Keys

Despite the holidays, my mind is having a rough time getting back into work-mode. What with all the new things I've learnt at work (and I've very genuinely learnt them - got back from 10 days in Malta and hadn't forgotten a single thing!!! *proud*), I'm suffering with the little everyday things.

...............What did I walk into this room for?
....Why do I have this book in my hand?
.........What was I about to say?
.........................Where are my keys?

The answer to that last one, my dears, is MALTA! I forgot my UK house keys in Malta!

A few hours into the flight - we were already somewhere over France - I suddenly realised that I hadn't heard them jingling about in my bag recently. Cue mad search through the bag on the plane. Nothing. David tried too (while I sat there thinking 'I may be forgetting things but I'm not going blind too and if you dare find them in that bag, I'm going to lose it!' - He didn't)

Once we landed, I called home. Sure enough - they were hanging with the rest of the keys in my parents' house in Malta. Luckily, my sister is currently on holiday there and she'll be bringing them back for me for a hopeful handover at the weekend. Until then, I've claimed hubby's keys as my own which means I get to greet him at the door every evening :)

[img cred: eastbrookhomes]