Beautiful frosty morning, the coldest yet. Ice on the car, glistening white grass, orange rising sun, clouds floating westwards, but very little wind down here on the ground. Last night I saw a shooting star. It was a very clear night and I just saw it briefly on my left hand side, over the house that has the little band room in the garden. I’ve not seen one for a while, maybe not even last year but I do see them fairly often. You’ll never see a shooting star if you don’t ever look to the night sky.
By the time I was halfway to work though this morning the world had changed and a dark fog had appeared. This lasted until work which was entirely wrapped in the midst of it, and it lasted until lunchtime when it lifted and the sun finally burnt it all off and warmed the world.
What a mixed bag today’s entry has been, indeed most of them have been recently. Is it possible because I know I am nearly on my way out of this journal? The December charge is looming once again after all and with that a new system of morning or evening habits. I quite like the idea of drawing practice actually but perhaps the writing should take precedence, for this is the knot we should untie, revealing the most usefulness.