It's cold here, and early. I have been beaten by the Sun, though only just. The insides of my windows are covered in early morning condensation, because I am hotter than the outside world, and windows are mere thin glass. But the fact remains - it is cold here.
As I sit, bundled up in my Winter wrappings, I ponder the fact that it is, apparently, Spring, this side of the pond. Ah, but it is early days yet. The shades of Winter have yet to truly leave us, and it will be a little while yet before we are properly free of them.
It's cold here, and early. I can hear the birds, all a twitter about something or other, and it makes me smile to think that there is life just out of arm's length from where I sit now, warm and snug inside my Winter quilt.
I cannot see much, outside these windows of mine, because of the moisture on them, although even if I could, there would not be much to see just now, at least, not from these windows.
There are other windows here that to look out of means looking into some wonderful and far-off land, or, perhaps, into a certain forest where lives a certain outlaw of long ago. I can see that from here, quietly, if I sit and listen and look.
It is a window that shows a great deal. Especially early in the morning, before the Sun has properly risen, and no one is about. If I am quiet, then the forest that sits behind me becomes many things. Sometimes I fancy it is the Hundred Acre Wood, where live Winnie the Pooh and his friends, other times, it is the Enchanted Forest, and I wonder how far in the Faraway Tree sits, and whether Moon Face and Saucepan Man live there still, and yet other times...it is Sherwood Forest, and I fancy I see a glimpse every so often of Little John, or Robin Hood. Sometimes I am traipsing along with Bilbo Baggins and the dwarves on their long trek to the Lonely Mountain and the dragon. And still other times it is a land of my own making.
Ah, but it is cold here....and early. Today I am not much in the mood of creating a world to visit. Today I wish nothing more than to retreat back into my warm Winter wrappings, close my eyes, and nod gently off.
As I sit, bundled up in my Winter wrappings, I ponder the fact that it is, apparently, Spring, this side of the pond. Ah, but it is early days yet. The shades of Winter have yet to truly leave us, and it will be a little while yet before we are properly free of them.
It's cold here, and early. I can hear the birds, all a twitter about something or other, and it makes me smile to think that there is life just out of arm's length from where I sit now, warm and snug inside my Winter quilt.
I cannot see much, outside these windows of mine, because of the moisture on them, although even if I could, there would not be much to see just now, at least, not from these windows.
There are other windows here that to look out of means looking into some wonderful and far-off land, or, perhaps, into a certain forest where lives a certain outlaw of long ago. I can see that from here, quietly, if I sit and listen and look.
It is a window that shows a great deal. Especially early in the morning, before the Sun has properly risen, and no one is about. If I am quiet, then the forest that sits behind me becomes many things. Sometimes I fancy it is the Hundred Acre Wood, where live Winnie the Pooh and his friends, other times, it is the Enchanted Forest, and I wonder how far in the Faraway Tree sits, and whether Moon Face and Saucepan Man live there still, and yet other times...it is Sherwood Forest, and I fancy I see a glimpse every so often of Little John, or Robin Hood. Sometimes I am traipsing along with Bilbo Baggins and the dwarves on their long trek to the Lonely Mountain and the dragon. And still other times it is a land of my own making.
Ah, but it is cold here....and early. Today I am not much in the mood of creating a world to visit. Today I wish nothing more than to retreat back into my warm Winter wrappings, close my eyes, and nod gently off.
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