(Journal extract)

A lost wallet (Tom this time) prompts a return mission to town and I am alone, truly blessedly alone for the first time in I don’t know how long.

Layers of cream-coloured contoured rock tower above, throwing deep shade down here, soon all will be drenched in the sun’s warmth when he makes it over the top. Time stretches ahead, mine, all mine, to potter and pack, think and write. The high place still calls but I’m not sure which I want more – to be up there, or just to stay here, shade, stillness, pen in hand, creativity.

Savor the moment, precious gift of rest and solitude, the bright side of our misfortune. The buzz of a single fly so loud in the stillness.

How I have missed this.