It's astonishing to think that six months have passed since I wrote this, at the winter solstice:
...and here were are at another turning of the year. What an extraordinary six months it has been. The longest day. The shortest night. Midsummer's eve. As a gale rages outside, and the sun approaches the horizon through misting rain.
What an extraordinary world, and how lucky are we to be part of it?
My world has turned, and turned again in the last six months. Many things I was certain of have disappeared. Many things I did not expect have arrived.
Summer solistice. Stretching me wide, as wide as can be, to wait for a future I cannot imagine.