It's winter, in my part of the world. Last night was a crunching hard frost - in fact, there is still frost on the ground at 10am. My three boys were outside before school, exploring the ice over the puddles and mud, and delighting in the discovery of a sock that had been left outside, which was now frozen solid. I managed - just - to get them to school without having to change their clothes.
I got home from the school run just before 9am. It's a beautiful sunny day, and I walked into my warm house, looked at all the detritus my kids had strewn about before they left, shut my eyes and smiled. I couldn't hear a single thing, apart from the little noises of the fire. That sudden shock of peace is a lovely thing!
There's one tree I can see out my window that is still hanging on to the last of it's bright red leaves. I've noticed that trees seem to loose the leaves from their newest growth first - the older, more established wood hangs onto it's leaves the longest.
My neighbour's cow is grieving the loss of her calf, who was sent off in a truck yesterday. She is standing by the fence, bellowing plaintively every few minutes... calling for her baby.
I am leading an informal worship service at our small church this Sunday. The gospel reading for the day is the story of the disciples, Jesus, a boat, a storm and a miracle. It's raised a surprising number of issues with me, and I'm really struggling with the scripture, my issues and what, exactly, I am going to say on Sunday! I will continue thinking, praying, and probably arguing as I go about my work today - creating order where there is currently a small amount of chaos, doing some study, and running homework club this afternoon.
These are the things I have noticed this morning. Somehow, noticing things gives them weight and substance. Noticing the leaves, instead of just letting my eyes glance over them, means that I remember them and the pleasure they give me.
