The shortest day

Next year will mark our tenth wedding anniversary, and nine years since we moved into the house here in St Maggies.

From the flat in Dover, we would see the setting sun and moon, and marvel at the colours. Here in St Maggies, we see the sunrise and moonrise, and since moving here I have come to see the way the sun rises in different places along the horizon, or would do without the cliffs, so instead they rise above the dip.

I see the relationship between the phases of the moon, especially when waning, and the time it rises, seeing it raise later and later in the night, until it rises, new, at dawn, but the light of the coming day hides it. The relationship between the position of the rising sun, the season and the fields around us.

I have never felt so connected with nature, seeing the changes of the season, the rotation of the crops in the fields, the flowering of plants, or even the first signs of spring growth are all noted with pleasure.

And photographed.

We have toyed with moving from here, not now, but in the future. But, in truth, this is home. Our place, where we have put down roots. Annoyed the neighbours at times, but our little piece of heaven on earth. Next year the final part of the garden makeover will take place, and then we shall watch it mature as we grow old.

From tomorrow, the nights will get shorter, the days will grow longer, and in time the days will also get warmer. In about a month or so, the snowdrops will begin to appear, as will orchid rosettes and new growth of wild garlic and bluebells and all the other things we look forward to see in the spring But I love all seasons, treasure a sunrise, watching a thunderstorm or just seeing a summer breeze causing the sunflowers to dance. There is pleasure and joy in almost everything.

Walking today, I saw half a dozen flowers still in bloom; hanging on until the end of the year when we will take part in the new year flower hunt. To see a single periwinkle or knapweed still in flower, a little summer colour lighting up the shortest day made my heart sing. As did me seeing my first Goldcrests in a garden tree in Lighthouse Road. Tiny, tiny birds, but so full of life and in a small flock. I stood and watched them for ten minutes, trying to identify them and get a picture with the compact. I did get a shot, but not good enough to post, but good enough to identify. I smiled all the way home having seen the tiny golden-crowned birds.

This is our life, filled with joy.