still

it's that moment when the tide is on the turn*

(*from being out, to coming in) presumably the river is still flowing downstream, but there is nothing to indicate this on the surface of the water

the surface of the water is almost flat - a mirror-like sheen of reflecting light from the bright winter sun; the sky is clear blue sky and there is very very little wind (unlike the predictions of the forecast, which were for the onset of wintery weather)(perhaps that will come later)(or maybe this is the eye of the storm and I just haven't realised that)

I saw a programme at the weekend about Phil Spector and have the tune to River Deep, Mountain High buzzing around my head - there are no mountains, and the river is not that deep here, but around and around the tune goes anyhow; for some reason I'm also humming Always Take The Weather With You, by Crowded House (and the bluegrass song Blue Skies. . .)

I read the word pagan at the weekend, and the mornings here in The Tower often feel like that for me, because I'm up so high: face-to-face with the tree tops, and the sky, watching the sun rise, or the wind blow, as if I am part of an ancient rite of worship for a new day

and there we have it

it's a new day

to fill with activities and opportunities and the everyday necessities of life, and hopefully a good thing or two

I hope your day
has some good things in it