I think the year should start in September, when the freesias open and bloom. The sun is grinning again but the nights still bite my toes. It is the season for birthdays.
(Of course it’s still July and I have to make do with african daisies.)

She loved too many things, that was her problem, and they didn’t always love her back. Some times they would run away, like the field mouse she kept in her pocket for two whole weeks. Others would slip softly in to the realms of forget-me-so, where ballet shoes and half empty diaries collected dust bunnies [...]

Today was a dream of blue skies and pages and tiny sweet strawberries. It seemed to hurry along like good days do, but I found some of the blessed slowness that I have been looking for in there somewhere. Morning was a walk to the library for Cassandra (which I’ve been needing to read lately) [...]