Winter, light or dark.

The clock and the calendar become irrelevant to me, I seek only quality of the moment. Not always easy but well worth working on, like now for instance, it may be hours ridiculous for some but for me it’s quality time, no distractions, well, apart from the Kipster wanting to go out for a waz.

Outside the cold of November, inside Ladybirch the fire glows and the white sage smoulders, scenting the air with it’s heady fragrance, the silence of the wee hours pierced occasionally by a screaching Twany, rain from the last shower drips rhythmically from the thatch, the laptop purrs like a contented cat, the clock on the mantle piece tics and tocks, reminding me that time waits for no man. Orchestra of the night.

I’am not alone here, never alone, things move around me making their presence felt with subtle signs, the cold chills and goose bumps mix with the tingling sensation, is it, was it, will it.

My eye’s are getting heavy, time for a nice brew of cha, enjoy your quality of time, bis gleich.

Categories: Burning the Midnight Oil


I'm a disabled ex-Soldier, just entering my Autumn years. I write purely out of enjoyment about anything and everything. My main interests are Nature, especially birds and history. I enjoy reading, fiction or non-fiction, it doesn't matter, any genre pleases me.

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