Thursday 12th April 2012

There is a small colony of crows outside the front of house. Nesting amongst the trees of our mews, the birds are buffoons at times as they flit and crash about in the air. But it is at nest building time that they are most earnest... flying to and from their lairs with twigs and debris that they've snatched from all over the place.

Trawling through the vast library of images that Judy and I have accumulated over the years  I am struck by the gargantuan task of trying to organise them into some sort of meaningful collection and, more importantly, of the vital need for backing them up, for when we arrive in the US we'll need a new computer.
I now have three external back ups here in the UK and two others already in the US, and having experienced the panic of disc failures on a number of occasions, I'm hoping that's enough. We had come back from a delightful trip to Paris and Giverny in the spring of 2007 when something went wrong with our old G5 Mac... and by the time I'd got everything going again all of the photos from that trip had gone into a digital abyss. 
But I will remember the pond by our small B&B not far from Monet's gardens to which we had run after an enormous storm. It was packed with bullfrogs which croaked and gargled all night as they puffed up their throats and ploshed about... and my memories of that trip are as crisp as they are clear, despite the loss of my photographs.


Nicholas

There are so many little pieces that have to dovetail perfectly in order for us to leave England on June 10^th and get on that ocean liner. If I dwell too much on all of these things, my head literally feels as though it will explode.

On the other hand, if I redirect my focus, if I think of all the incredible circumstances that got me to this moment of my life, the synchronicities, the seemingly random events that have woven the extraordinary tapestry of my journey, I know I am able to rest, truly rest, in all of it.

Yesterday I was looking forward to Iona, today I am looking backwards through the memories of my living; the milestones, the highs and the lows, and I know, without a doubt that there is a plan, there is an order in that which, at times, has seemed chaotic and without meaning.

And in the stillness of this day, being able to look before me and behind me, I am amazed at what comes up when I slow down….

An image taken a few years ago has come to my mind’s eye with some degree of frequency and I think I now know why. This picture of us in, almost nested in the bark of this ancient living being, taken in Redwood National Park, reminds me that it is bigger than my comprehension, this life we are all living. I am tiny and miniscule and so very young in the scheme of all creation.

So…in this season, well…in every season, I can let go my grasp, release my fear of the unknown, and thrive in the knowledge that I am held with solidity, strength and beauty beyond my wildest dreams. 

Judy