Ups and Downs

Life: if you plotted it on a piece of graph paper it would hardly meander along in a straightish line. It goes up one day, and as you're enjoying the dizzy pleasures of things going right, falling into place, turning out as you hoped, down it goes again, wallop. All you can say about the lows is: this too shall pass. I thought that might have been a quote from Julian of Norwich but it seems it comes from the medieval Levant. Everything is transient, the good and the bad, but we knew that anyway.

My new kitchen table is so appealing that I spend a lot of each day sitting at it. I do my CAB homework here, and Italian study. It's much better for me than the low sofa which I shared with Hugo but which is not good for my back, especially when I slouch in it. From the end of the table where I sit I can watch the sky in front of me through my very high window. I see the sparrowhawk which spends much of its time hovering with fluttering wings straight ahead of me. Sometimes it dives but I have never seen it emerge with a small mammal in its beak. Perhaps it devours them on the ground. Best of all is the low hedge along the side of the garden, and the gap at the end of it through which I can gaze into the field and way beyond. My eye is constantly drawn to this view through my glazed back door. There's something wonderful about having a long view, especially a green one, where the eye can wander and the imagination follow. It's the same scene from the garden room but I don't go in there much in the winter.

Walking past the front garden I'm assailed by the scent of the winter flowering viburnam growing alongside and through the now denuded medlar tree. I'm hoping the wintersweet will follow suit like last year but it's not looking promising, no flower buds yet. Last night Hugo and I went out at bedtime as usual for a last pee. The nights have been so dark though the moon is getting brighter now, and it was really black. As we walked down the drive to the lane I could hear something strange, a man singing, the croaky, wavering voice of a drunk. I froze and stopped in my tracks. Where was it coming from and, more importantly, who could it be? It was close to midnight, and I could see no lights. It seemed to be close, but the night was foggy and in those conditions sound carries oddly. I'll admit I was frightened, but I let Hugo off his lead and waited for him on the lane, heart thumping. It was odd to be scared in this space where I have felt so safe. He was swift, thank goodness, and we were quickly back inside, doors locked. And that was that, I instantly forgot about it. Now that's a first. In the past I would have been worried all night, and probably barely slept. As they say in 21st-century Levant, that's progress.