Good morning!
It’s Sunday, and we’re staring out at a landscape that’s very different from the one we left in March. The window is open so we can hear the birds, including…what’s that? A hermit thrush? Oh yes indeed, they’ve returned, as have we.
Everything is still in the early stages. I can see hints of green in the trees, though the leaves have yet to unfurl. But the thurbarb is up and already begging to be plucked, chopped, and served warm with a glug of cream—which we’ll do later today. But first, let’s just stand here at the window and take it all in.
“At times I feel as if I am spread out over the landscape and inside things, and am myself living in every tree . . . in the clouds and the animals that come and go, in the procession of the seasons.”
—Carl Jung
Onwards,
Clara
