And then later that day was a lovely evening light: 'Light in winter', a phrase that once sustained me through some grief. I saw it on the spine of an old book in St. Deiniol's library. I didn't get it off the shelf; I didn't need to, the phrase was enough and reading the book might have broken the spell. Well, we all have our excuses for being poorly read, and that's mine. The phrase didn't suggest that there was hope, rather it suggested that one could live in a kind of winter of the soul and there could still be good stuff to sustain one within that situation. And somehow, I just can't read a load of stuff, I have to give up thinking of myself as an 'avid reader'; or else perhaps I'm just an avid reader of a very little. A few phrases are more than all I need, they jump out at me; too many and I'd be overloaded. I go to bed with picture books.
But I have a list of blog topics just howling at me to be set down. Titles waiting to be brought to fruition include: 'Omni-this and that' and 'Splish splosh, neatness, Stanley Spencer' and 'New light shed'. Do I write this for you, dear reader? Well, partly! But mainly I write it for myself - I think I must be my most avid reader! Then sights like this are only a click-of-Clothq away. We have this kind of sky quite a lot in Lincolnshire, and this pic is not souped-up in any way; my pics usually are not, and I would tell you if it were. It's for bedtime reading, provided by God.
|Light in Winter|