Transition

Two different people have told me that an early autumn means we're in for a long, hard winter.  Well, we'll see.  But there is definitely a chill in the morning air, the leaves are turning, and a bumper crop of blackberries is already ripening on the hedges that border the river.

So still this morning. A milky sun giving a soft and gentle light. No wind.  A very distant hum of traffic on the main road.  Birdsong. I keep meaning to re-listen to my bird song CDs to help identify the different calls.  I disturbed half a dozen goldfinches making the most of the opportunity for a blackberry breakfast.  Incidentally the collective noun for goldfinches is a charm as my father once informed me.  (Other collective ornithological delights here.  A bellowing of bullfinches is a particular favourite.).

Today I'm particularly aware of the onset of the cold months as my gas central heating boiler's days are numbered, or so the British Gas technician I called out when the radiators remained stone cold after half an hour of running informed me.  I'm lining up several firms to give me a quote on a new, modern, energy efficient one over the coming week or so but I'll miss my old warhorse.  It has a steampunk look about it and dates from the late 1980s, from the era of Duran Duran, padded shoulders and mobile phones the size of a brick.  It has grunted and creaked  and whirred its noisy way through the last six winters since I moved into this house and I've always been aware that it and I have been living on borrowed time as far as heating is concerned.  Even now it hasn't given up the ghost completely, as it still provides hot water in the taps.

Quite a significant week to come all in all.  I've an appointment this Tuesday that I'm pinning far too much hope on because, probably mistakenly, it feels like my last hope of getting back to anything approaching a normal life. Yes, there is more than a hint of desperation here but my ability to "trust the process" has been severely tested of late.  Don't want to say any more about it in case I put a jinx on the whole business. 

Odd one out

Whatever else is going on (test results still awaited) and in spite of the ups and downs and grinding frustrations of my present state I've got some mobility back and that's extraordinary.

The aspens are still as glorious, though over the last day or two I've noticed the very first yellow leaves on the ground beneath the trees.  We're a week away from Lughnasa, the start of the harvest. The summer is inching its way along towards autumn, the nights now imperceptibly lengthening.  There's a way to go yet of course but the first signs are there if you look.  A reminder, even on hot motionless July days, that the world is ceaselessly turning, that nothing is forever.

When I'm walking by the river I feel the odd one out. Nothing new there and I'm wearing my differences much more comfortably these days. But even at weekends I'm aware that I'm the only person who is just walking for pleasure (as well as therapy in my case). With a camera. On my own. There are a band of regular dog walkers. One or two joggers very occasionally.   All of us smile and say hello as we pass each other.  Maybe they wonder what I'm doing or - more probably - maybe they've got better things to think about.

 A dog might be nice though. Just for the walks. Perhaps I could borrow one?

Today, July 27th, would have been my father's birthday. Someone else who loved to walk just for the sake of it.  I'll light a candle.    

Red

To Whom it May Concern

Look, thank you so much for caring . Over the years you've been an amazing support, a rock, and I wouldn't have got this far without you.  But please understand that when I'm upset, really upset and despairing, I don't need to be fixed.  I need to be allowed to be upset and to let everything out. To have the tears flow, to wail, to moan and to gnash my teeth. Honestly, it helps.  If you try to fix me I feel an unhealthy obligation to our relationship to demonstrate that your latest bright idea-which-will-solve-everything is just what I need, even if it isn't. Otherwise you might walk away and that prospect terrifies me. I couldn't cope with it.

So. Don't worry. I know that this phase will pass even though it's impossible to explain to you the reasons for my certainty.  Just let it be and just continue to be there.  Keep doing what you do so very well.  I don't expect anything else. Don't be frightened or anxious.  It's not down to you to make everything right. Really. 

Tests

July is turning into a month of tests, medical tests. Blood. Urine. Etc.  Something is amiss and they (the NHS and the nutritionist - coming at it from different angles) aren't sure what it is. Even the trifling exercise of taking blood samples sends me into minor shock, physically and then emotionally.  The dam wall is breached. Tears and more tears.  If I didn't realise it before I do now: these days I'm a delicate flower.

Now, the wait for results. The last one won't be through till early August.  How's the thyroid?  Liver?  Kidneys?  Blood glucose?  Haemoglobin? Inflammatory markers?  Metabolism? Just give me answers. Tell me what's wrong.  And (hopefully) what's right. I want hard facts. Enough of not knowing, of fog. 

Today a bit of recuperation. Pottering around the house in the ad breaks of the Tour de France.

Farmhouse