I can't wait for the Christmas tree to be gone. We had to move all the fragile ornaments to the top third to stop the cat pulling them all down and the lights are wonky and unbalanced and the whole thing is bedraggled.
I finished reading The Dark is Rising yesterday as the snow storm swirled outside the window. Quite different from the landscape of my childhood but the dappled snow, its sound absorption and the bright light reflecting off the snow sparked a shared imagination. I'm still bewitched by barrows and chalk hills and flint and remembrance of ancient people. I saw a photo of Glastonbury Tor on someone's Instagram and felt a sharp envy for those high and mystical places.