I've been feeling a bit grotty. Cough cough cough. Yesterday I felt awful. Didn't, couldn't go out. Mum even sympathised.
But today I managed to keep smiling by preparing lamb hearts for our tea,  and then, after they were snugly bedded down on some root veg, I sat in the cool of the garden.
When I went back into the warm kitchen I felt refreshed. Quite amazing what a little relaxation can do.
I wasn't out there long, but it was long enough to read a few pages of My Weekly and listen to a handful of birds singing and talking. I love bird tittle-tattle more than any other sound. It not only comforts, but has a cleansing effect too. It's as if showers of perfect musical notes rain down.
Which reminds me....Earlier today, as I pottered outside the conservatory I found a small white egg shell. Completely in half with a jagged edge and small patch of sticky yellowy mucous type stuff clinging inside. I held it like it was something special, something out of this world. And to me it was. This half an egg was once home, a delicate crisp sanctuary for fresh new life. And I was in awe.
My eggs of course packed up years ago which I suppose makes the finding of a broken fallen shell all the more potent. Mother Nature, in her wisdom deemed me unfit for Motherhood but instead instilled in me a lot of love for other things.