I’ve been sick since Saturday and in the Shire since Sunday, with a nasty flu that made me stay in bed and be thankful for every waking minute without a headache so I could read or watch something and not die of the flu and boredom.
I had been admiring the frosted landscape from my bower window yesterday morning, almost sad when the bright Spring sun thawed it all away. Today I’m still rather weak but I was fit enough to take a short morning walk to the next fields and back.
Our neighbour – the one I disliked even as a child – had one of his pines felled because it “always made such a mess”. It’s a pity, but the ice crystals on the fan-like boughs that lay beyond his fence were pretty.
I always seem to come back to brambly hedges. They are everywhere in the shire – right behind the small garden door that leads to the fields, around the oldest of the apple trees, in and around the thickets.
When I was younger I decided to believe that in one of the bramble nests must be some sort of Sleeping Beauty. I never found her but one can still dream.
As the sun crept further across the Shire hills it was like I walked from Winter into Spring. I’m safely back in bed now – you mustn’t push yourself, my Grandmother said when I strolled back – but outside is birdsong and soon there will be lunch.
I hope you’re in better condition than I am right now and enjoying the first (or, in case of the Southern Hemisphere readers last) warm rays of sunshine.