Birthdays are weird things, love ‘em, hate ‘em. I oscillate between the two. What I hate is the expectations. It’s your 40th you MUST do something. Nope, nope, nope I want quiet.
This one however is overshadowed by big black clouds. When there is a family member gone, and the reality is that they, unlike you, are never going to celebrate a 40th birthday it taints the day.
But the sun shone gloriously, a reprieve from all the rain and the wild weather as winter gentles into spring. I walked in spring sunshine in the company of majestic trees. The clatter of heron’s are preparing their nest in a Cyprus of Lebanon sounding like Teridactyls, taking part in the return of ancient cycles: winter into spring, regrowth from death.
So far 40 has been realising your eyes are getting strained while doing wee close up work, leaving the iron on and having to phone someone to go round and turn it off - and having one thin slice of birthday cake gives me this almighty sugar rush like being on drugs at 10 am in work. Sad, eh?It was a good day inspired by trees and lichen. I'd love to somehow replicate this lichen in felt, creating those little pods. I've been trying to make tree trunks out of felt with some french knot lichen, i'd love a little forest of them.Maybe I should try them in grey or brown.
I laughed at small children trying to fit 40 candles onto a cake and basked into wonderful moonshine which somehow seemed brighter than usual. As I stood watching the clouds to clear from her face I felt rooted. She emanated a deep hush, and I felt calm, silent and tree like.