29/12/2025
I was outside today collecting leaves again, when the glen was disturbed. Not by 3 monks walking by as they had done yesterday. The field next to my home was being driven in, and people with guns, spaniels and a child began shooting pheasants. I took myself inside. I treasure this slow liminal time between Christmas and New Year. It’s a space of peace for me. Beyond work and meetings. I put the kettle on and made a pot of Hug tea. I used my lovely tea cosy, made by my cousin, for the first time. I sweetened the tea with honey, infused with Meadowsweet, rose and lime blossom. I settled down and read some of this wonderful book. Mill dust and Dreaming Bread. I cooked up a pot of broccoli and Stilton soup, with nettle leaf powder, seaweed and dried wild garlic. I read some more. At dusk the pheasants were chooking in the woods once more. I’m sure the black one survived.
