It really is bloody cold.
I rushed through the chilled air in no time dodging washing baskets and avoiding stubbed toes as I made it from snug bed to steaming shower in less than ten seconds. As the almost scalding water massaged my tense neck muscles I began dreaming of a time that was…
…it was a Saturday morning, and I was stood in the garden, in a t-shirt(!), and I was comfortably warm! Oooh how I long for those mythical days of spring and summer to return. But not yet, I am resigned to winter, with thoughts of a sun that brings warmth to the skin fuelled only by a slipping memory.
For me it is a life of crisp fresh morning strolls to the station. The sharp air filling your lungs and stimulating your senses provoking reflections on a life that is saturated by traces of a Being whose creation gets right inside you. Breath in. Breath out.