Tiny shoots, the dust in the soil getting mixed up with roots and fireworks. A montage sequence of events: Growing older, cutting back time, winter solstice, Christmas chocolates, family family family, pretending to rest, and resume normal pace, cue footage of a whole new year exploding onto screen.
Dunno why but this year feels different. Like those roots have potential. I seem to be more stoic than most about the state of the nation. The year ahead feels like counterbalances are stirring, like souls will be searched and found wanting. Seeds in there, somewhere. I can smell their future.
In retreat still, I'm feeling strangely relaxed, like I have no right to be. Using the darkness to find a way through the anxieties of stillness Coming out the other side full of calmed strength.
2020 is a year for getting the pieces in order. The board isn't set or lost in any way. This is a year for fresh ideas and grizzled, hard-bitten energy like mischievous Victorian frosts. This is, in many ways, our year. Let's get out there.
Photo: Worthing pier pavilion, roof, yesterday, last year, strange reminiscence of Peacehaven Big Park