The bones of love

Dear friends,

We all are muffled and buffered with snow, beautiful on trees, treacherous on roads, linking the country in common experience and exposing our relationship with nature.  It is easy to live as if each day is the same, warmed or cooled by clothes and buildings, lit and energised by electricity, but these last few weeks there has been no denying that it is winter and we are at its mercy.  The first new piece on my website http://www.janeupchurch.co.uk/ is on snow, written after the first falls before Christmas when it was novel and wonderful.

Snow

The sun is shining on my face and glinting off the snow.  Yes, we have real snow that shines white and bright.  It outlines the twigs and branches with highlights and hangs heavy on the leaves.  It squeaks as you walk over it, crunching into compact layers that hold your prints.  It transforms lawns into cake-tops, thick, sweet and smooth, but thins on paths and melts from hot roofs.  It clumps and collects as it is swept from windscreens and walkways, and along the edge of the road it gathers our dirt to itself like a nurse.

To read the rest go to http://www.janeupchurch.co.uk/view/words

The other two pieces are snowless reflections on the effect of winter.  Day dawns late and it is a magical feeling to be up in the dark and to witness its coming, breaking into the edge of the sky and then filling the world with light, the birth of a new morning.

The womb of the day

The moon is still ruling the sky in the west, a bright white light in the inky blue, and it is only when you look to the east you can see the blue is fading, a thin strip of pale sky showing below the grey-gathered clouds.   Yet you would know it was the hour of dawn before you ever looked east, for walking through the dark garden there is such a clamour of birdsong.  What a wonder that they wake and welcome the dawn each day, no matter the hour or the weather. 

To read the rest go to http://www.janeupchurch.co.uk/view/words

There is beauty in winter but it is not an easy time living sheltered and shut out from the warmth of the sun and the easy run of living and relating.  Jumpers and hats and log fires do a good job of warming the outside but we need inner nurturing too.

The bones of love

The sun on the bare branches of the oak tree brings out all its colours so that it shines, yellow-green and bright against a blue, blue sky.  None of it could be called brown, yet that is what we might call it if asked.  It isn’t a simple colour, or a simple being.  It holds a covering of algae next to its skin, lifting it high so it can find the sun.  It supports branches of ivy, and a multitude of insects we’d know how to find if we were birds.  We call it tree but it is king and servant of a community and looks as alive now as it does in full-leafed summer.

To read the rest go to http://www.janeupchurch.co.uk/view/words

My book is almost ready, I will give all the details in my next newsletter.

With love,

Jane