Every year I brace myself for November. Always hectic, it’s the month to keep your head down and just get on with it, whatever your ‘it’ happens to be. I’ve been filling up plenty of notebooks this month. Pen and paper and a million lists. I’ve been finding my feet and plunging in to new business challenges. I’ve been doodling, talking and singing. All the typing done has been for reports, plans or miscellaneous paperwork.
So, Hello blog, quiet little corner that reminds me where my heart lies: in those swaying branches high above my head, standing deep in the forest, with the dog at my feet, amongst the wind and bundled leaves. When we take that sharp turn down the hill on our quick lunchtime route, I finally remember to breathe.
Yesterday we escaped in to the last of the day, right after the dark skies had swept through and left behind some late pink light. A few trees were felled in the storm, so we scrambled over the bark’s wet moss and ducked below smooth old twigs. As usual, the dog handled it far more gracefully than I.
Holed up in my office, on these rainy days, I’ve become a ridiculous fan of white noise (wind/rain/chatter). I’m terrible at paying attention amidst any background distraction (unless in a coffee shop, of course). The white noise feels like focus over distraction and, more crucially, stops Rolo from barking at random happenings outside. When I’m not filling up on white noise, I’ve been listening toHighasakite, The Jezabels, and Beth Ditto.
Wednesdays have become the beginning of our ‘weekendlet’: a little break midweek. Tom now doesn’t teach on Thursdays, so we steal a lie-in and drink coffee over books like there’s no work round the corner. It’s funny how even a couple extra hours in the middle of the week feels like this beautiful, precious, elusive thing. Hard won, but worth the fight. So, here I am, grabbing a moment of calm in the storm that is November, just to remind myself how sweet it feels to take a moment and simply write.