Doing my own thing
As I stepped out into the garden this morning I could hear the church bells ringing from a couple of miles away. Instantly it took me to my gran. It is a sound that takes me to her. I haven’t been back to her place since I went to a festival in her little park and drank sangrias and had the best chicken ever!!!!
It would have made her so happy to see me as perfectly happy as I felt in that moment.
I think I will go one Sunday morning soon. 9th January was when I lost both my gran and my nan. Same date a year apart. How strange is that. It’s a date of significance for the two very different but oh so very wonderful ladies ( I call them ladies, a word that lots of “women” don’t like being called these days. Why is that? because both of these LADIES had a class that you just can’t buy) who wrote to each other and spoke on the phone despite the fact that their children who originally connected them together no longer were, They always remained friends. I always thought that was very beautiful. I wonder what they talked about?
The bells are still ringing as I am writing. I actually thought to write something completely different as I stepped into my garden but those bells overtook my thoughts.
I heard some other bells ringing that were shared from a very magical place by my very dear and special friend on Christmas Eve “you might be able to hear the bells,.. let me hold on for a minute”
I’m glad they did! A similar thought passed through my mind as I listened. I love the sound of church bells.
They are music that wisps through the air and catches the ears of those sitting far beyond where they are being played. Connecting people even beyond the realms of present.
There is something very simple and peaceful in that sound.
It feels like a perfect January Sunday morning. Crisp air and cloudless blue sky with the sun shining down. I love the seasons even more the older I get. Although I say that, but I always did even as a child. The changing beauty of what surrounds me that looks so different depending on the time of year. All bringing out a different part of who I am. That family of seasons.
All held together in that similarity but so different in their own special and individual ways. Sometimes stealing a little of the others thunder by providing a hottest day of the year in autumn or snowfall in spring. They are a family that do their own thing but somehow still fit together in some way. It’s always those differences that make life as beautiful as it comes.
I of course love these cold crisp and sunny days of Winter. They cry out, “cuddle me and let’s be warm.”. if and when the snow falls I will happily walk in it for a while until I feel the pink in my cheeks which always makes me then wish to find myself back in the warmth, with skin on skin under a duvet.
As the baby of the family Spring time has that pureness of new. Not quite pushing through all those colours but with an excitement and magic of the possibilities of what might be revealed. The little upstart who doesn’t need to deliver that much beyond a feeling of fresh and young and new. Holding a romance just through innocence and created in those brief rain showers that can leave you feeling like love will capture you at any moment.
Before summer kicks in, in all its glory. The flamboyant, crazy and unashamedly in your face sibling. The one that shows off and says look how great I am. Throwing its sunshine around knowing that everyone wants a piece of it. I love its freedom. To throw off all those layers and just dance with only those sparkles of warming sunshine touching your skin and filling you with energy. And yet it is a season when I love to dream. While everyone else is partying together I am happier lying dreamily with the warmth of the sun on my face watching the clouds roll by and wondering where those planes and birds are going. When I feel at my most relaxed. When I would rather spontaneously dance somewhere really quiet to all my favourite tunes and feel the freedom in not being part of the bigger party. When I can twirl and skip and do anything I want that makes me smile and feel happy as though I am the sun itself.
And last but never ever least is the Autumn. My favourite season. It has a little of everything but with all the magic on top. Where all the other siblings are trying this one does it effortlessly. Not that you would notice until you notice. It doesn’t arrive in a way that says “here I am”. Quietly allowing summer to continue to steal the limelight before throwing out those reds, browns, oranges, yellows and greens and creating some kind of electrical current called magic that can be felt in the air. It doesn’t have to shout or create a moment. It just quietly surrounds you. It is everywhere you turn. It paves your way in its leaves underfoot, it whispers words of magic and love as you stroll along in life under the twinkling lights that live in that darker sky.
Understated but magnificent. Beautiful yet simple. Quiet but with something to say. All the time surrounded by all those man made extras that it doesn’t really need but provide a little extra sparkle in the build up to winter. Autumn has that class all of its own that cannot be bought no matter how much people try and then all of a suddenly falls quietly to sleep.
And as it does, it always leaves me with that feeling, with that hope that I will feel that magic again. If I am really lucky.
And in the meantime I will embrace the other seasons in all they have to offer as I do my own thing.