The day is wreathed with storms. I have always loved a rainy Sunday, with the cosiness of sleeping in and then tucking oneself up on the sofa with blankets and a good book or some old movie and plenty of tea, toast, biscuits (the English kind, of course) while the house is lashed with lovely cold rain. I don't even mind when a sudden great crash of thunder shakes the front door. Nor do I mind if I have to go out on some errand in that rain, because coming home to warmth and comfort is such a wonderful reward.
The flowers were a gift to me, and I love how wild lavender and an oak branch were tucked in amongst the roses. I have been making flowers a special focus of this month, luxuriating in the beauty of spring. I almost never buy them, but scour the neighbourhood for whatever is growing wild on a verge or over a fence, as well as those I get from my own little garden. I find that flowers really soften my heart.
For my next story, I'd planned on writing quite a shadowed, spooky tale, but with all the awful news in the world these days I seem to be retreating defensively into quiet loveliness, lace and flowers, gentle skies and warm rooms and all those things in stories. Someone said to me that, if the world was going to end, they might as well embrace as much joy and beauty as possible. I don't think it's going to end, I think that fear is another kind of defence - a way of trying to control, in our minds, what is happening around the world. But I don't know for how long we will have proper springtimes. I intend to love this one to bits.
It's hard sometimes to offer roses and wild lavender, softness and quiet. I've talked often about how society tends to view women who love these things as weak, unintelligent, too girly. Every now and again it troubles me, even to the degree of writing about it.
i will wrap myself in lace
and the fragrance of old roses
and i will write poems
about war and storms
if that's what i choose
a woman can be roses and storms both
a woman can be everything she wants
I hope that you are giving yourself whatever comfort you need in these dark days, and that you are binding it together with hope. There is always hope, as long as we love. So be love.