The wonder shelves

These shelves in my kitchen hold a plethora of mainly found objects. Stones and feathers and acorns and leaves. They are little instances of representing moments of connection and joy.

I like to see them, though I wish that touching them would reacquaint me with the feeling of the moment.

Today I tackled the garden. Nesting season over and the birds have mainly finished moulting. It took a few hours and involved one fall (and graze on the elbow - rather surprised that didn't hurt more than it did), a lot of scratches and a very large splinter.

However, it was worth it: the light is leaving this latitude and it's good to maximise what there is.

I have been remiss in my correspondence and I was going to reply thusly:

I am sorry to be so late in replying, but sadly the black dogs of depression have been joined by the tabby cats of resentment, the albino rats of procrastination and the tricolour guinea pigs of self-sabotage. I rather hoped the cats would eat the rats and the dogs munch on the guinea pigs, before chasing off the cats, but instead they seem to be cohabiting with great enthusiasm. If the piebald ponies of hysteria or the brown rabbits of rage come to the party, I really will be screwed. In the meantime, it's taking all my energy to feed and clean up after this menagerie of malcontents.

Maybe I will.

Or maybe I'll put it off another day.