How quick the light closing off for the night. Winter solstice. As if wrapped in a dream, I want to stretch and yet settle into quiet reading, staying close to the wood stove, brewing up yet more green tea.
And yet in the garden out the back here, summer crops are still producing: chillies, capsicums, the occasional aubergine, zucchinis; even the nectarine tree looks to have buds, as if what should be, isn’t.
Climate change? Our current Federal Government denies the reality of climate change, yet here it is, in the garden, already stirring for spring.
Our smartphones, tablets, laptops, apps, keep us connected at all times – if we so wish. And yet, there is a yet-ness at work in the natural world, an about-to-be which is already in advance. Perhaps, in that, a swirl, remixing, just like our bodies, always ready to surprise even at that point of daily, dutiful, even annoyed recognition.