Evenings. Where to distinguish night from day in this gloom?
The sun barely scrapes the horizon, the zenith is mere inches off the ground and I’m finding that at about 2.30 the light is so bad it’s time to switch lamps on and call it a day. I will never get used to this. I tread the waters of winter; I hardly thrive in it. But. If you’re going to have to live with something for a while, might as well make it pretty and seek the beauty in it, right?
A cosy fire, some blankets, hot chocolate or elderflower cordial, some books to inspire and a quiet, q u i e t, evening with nothing to do except dream and plan.
I’ll take it.