Tag Archives: a little place to sit

Nature reminds me every day….

09 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by in My home, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The seasons

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It’s been a crappy year for the entire world. I don’t want a ‘new normal.’

Recently I was both horrified and shocked, and truly dismayed to read that Denmark are to cull 17 million farmed mink, because 5 have a mutated form of Covid. The fact that they are farmed is bad enough, but they are going to kill newborns, young mink, everything. When does man stop thinking he owns the world?

No wonder nature is trying to cull us, in so many ways, as a race we’re clearly not doing it to ourselves quick enough.

So as a way of trying to raise spirits I am going to share the fabulous dawns that I am privileged to see almost every day.

Let’s not be blind to the crap, but let’s focus on the positives: the sun rises every day, and every day it never fails to lift the spirit.

We need to listen to nature.

Rosie

Living In The Moment: sunny Autumn Days

23 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by in For the live of dogs, My home, poignancy, Reflections, Saying Goodbye, Simple things, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure, The seasons

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I have made myself a promise, in this insane world, to give myself a little silence every day.

Here in France it is a beautiful autumn day, the sun is bright and warm, with just the occasional cloud blowing by.

So I took the time, from my what can be stressful days at the moment, and I had my tea and toast outside with the Welshies.

As I sat listening to the birds singing, and the trees sighing with resignation as the breeze took more of their leaves from them, I thought back to my first autumn here. I can remember how I would stand by my washing line and look around me in amazement that I owned the land where the huge oak trees loomed over me, and the crab apple dropped her apples loudly onto the goat shed roof. I remember walking up the chemin that was covered with a carpet of acorns and cob nuts crunching underfoot, and thinking this is mine.

But it was never mine, I never owned it, I borrowed it when I needed to heal, and it did it’s job. Now it’s time to let it go, and let someone else sit as the leaves blow by. Let someone else look down in wonder at the carpet of walnuts hiding amongst the leaves. Most years there are well over three thousand, we have given up trying to pick them all up, and we giggled the other day when we took the dogs for a walk down the lane and realised we were following a trail of walnut shells left by the squirrels. .

I will ask my neighbours if they want to collect some. If not the squirrels will be fed for the winter.

I will never tire of this view.

But one of my lessons has been it’s a view, that’s all. There will be more views.

Rosie

Belief. Life’s messages

25 Saturday Jan 2020

Posted by in Belief, Learning and Evolving, Making our own way, mental health, People, Reflections, Simple things, sunrises and sunsets, The adventures of living life in the French countryside, The continuing adventure

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This is the Table beside my blue wing back chair.

It is a place I sit often to write, manage our life, and just look at life; and this table holds many things I use: my journal, my diary, my iPad, my book, books I am reading, currently Mark Nepo ‘The Book of Awakenings’, and ‘The Road Less Travelled and Beyond’. It has become a little sanctuary to me, as I look out on my garden, often with a Welshie sitting opposite me.

I took the picture of my table last night because today is my birthday, and as I placed the flowers that RD had bought me on my table (where else would they go?!) with my cards, ready to open this morning, I realised how much this table encapsulates my life, and just how blessed I am.

I have no religion, or ‘God’. Perhaps my ‘God’ is life. I truly believe that life does show you the way, if you have faith. But as with all faiths sometimes it is hard to hold on to them. I will do another blog to show how life has shown us over this month to believe in it, and ourselves, but today I want to share a gift I was given by our client.

I have often written about the awful people we have worked for, but yesterday our client paid their bill and then gave us a tip on top! A tip that will enable us to buy wood for the rest of the winter. But it was not the actual tip that was the biggest gift, it was the fact that it reminded me that there are good and kind people out there. It bought tears to my eyes because of that, because of their kindness, and because it gave me a lesson, and it gave me faith.

I think I will chalk that up as one of the best gifts ever, along with my son turning up at Christmas: spiritual gifts not material ones.

Rosie

You can read our other story by clicking on the link at the top of the page.

Making This Better the book is now available including the journal entries for the first 5 years of our recovery & the whole 21 days of ‘The War’. Available internationally in paperback and ebook  at Amazon and Barnes & Noble also available at Xlibris and Apple Books for iPad and Waterstones Bookstores for click & collect