I have always found a walk around my garden can be enough to clear my head.
Barefoot whilst letting my toes flex into the grass. Walking around to see each plant, to find the buds about to open, or to see the insects sample the nectar and pollen inside the open fragrant blooms.
But its muddy now. The plants are dormant, awaiting the first spring sunshine.
I think that’s why I struggle in the winter.
Autumn is fine. I find it homely.
The first crisp mornings. The changing of the colours and falling of the leaves. The smell of leaves decaying and nourishing the earth. Like a world putting itself to bed.
And I like the Ice cold of winter. Frost on the cars. Your breath condensating each time you breath out. Cheeks rosey and eyes twinkle, like Jack Frost bought a kind of magic to the earth as you slept.
But when its the bits in between. When its just cold, wet and muddy. The ground saturated. I feel I lose my connection to the earth. I start to lose myself.
But the shortest day has been and gone. The new year started and I count the days until the first signs of spring appear. And as each bloom gently wakes up, I hope to find myself once more as I root into the earth.
