Journal

The landscape transforms into a pristine tableau, as if nature itself has hit the reset button.

It’s winter solstice today. The shortest day and the longest night of the year. The hibernal solstice. In ancient times viewed as the symbolic death and rebirth of the Sun or a Sun god. Cultures with cyclic calendars tied to the solstice celebrated a "year as reborn" with rituals linked to life-death-rebirth deities and themes of "new beginnings". This year I think many of us are hoping for a fresh start, a clean slate, tabula rasa.

It’s the middle of September and soon the autumn equinox arrives. Autumn, with its fiery foliage and brisk breezes, whispers secrets of transformation. It's a time to shed the old, embrace change, and let fresh beginnings take root, just as leaves gracefully fall to nurture the earth.

This year, autumn reaches into November. The cyclamen is still in bloom. Climate change so often on my mind.

Summer evenings on my balcony are blissful. Gentle euphoria. A pocket of regeneration and peace. It’s the third summer of the pandemic. The first summer of the Russia-Ukraine war. And perhaps the first summer when the climate emergency is beyond any doubt…