Know the time and take the gift

[smokingboot]

There's so much good, Burntisland yesterday and Edinburgh tomorrow, R getting better, the cat getting better, the little house martin nest in our eaves, and my gardener handing me a cute frog.

'I've found five in the garden so far,' he said, 'I'm hiding them all under that bush in the corner.' Yes, it's damp and very mossy there, dark and cool. I'm glad they're happy!

But I am not somehow. From what I can make out this is depression, hopefully not with a capital D; there have been a few triggers including one that's been causing me difficulty for a couple of years. I can chart it easily but perhaps the last two, almost three, months of continual illness in the house have had a more debilitating effect than I realised. The most serious symptoms are currently absent, but there is constant extreme fatigue and marked low mood.

So I will keep an eye. It always feels so indulgent to have these issues. Haven't I had sun and fun and gorgeous vistas and fab food and great friends and the most awesome loving husband? Yes to all of these. So how can this be a thing? If I can't be happy with these circumstances, what does it take? So stupid.

To add to it, my favourite rose bush took sick and died. She was beautifully rich, deep raspberry red, and her scent was glorious.I am very sad to lose her.




But this morning revealed a completely unexpected visitor;




How she got here is a puzzle, I haven't seen a single one in the neighbourhood, she just turned up randomly in a pot I hadn't bothered to weed. I never plant or keep these because they are dangerous to cats. Still, I can't help being delighted with her prettiness and little polinating passenger as well as the story that may be lurking; In Bootworld, tis is the season of the lily, not the season of the rose; know the time and take the gift. This may be a metaphor without meaning, but the poet in my soul loves it!