In the summer I started a ritual of taking a walk down to the bottom of the garden as the kettle boiled for my first cup of tea of the day. I am always the first one up and it is almost always really quiet in the garden, except for the chirping of the birds in the trees and the odd car on the road below and I found the experience to be such a lovely way to start my day.
It is something that I am trying to continue now the weather has turned and there is a chill in the air. Over the weekend whilst the house slept I found myself wrapped in a thick blanket, sitting on the carpet with the door open over looking the garden just practicing some mindful breathing whilst I watched the birds dance, and the cat prowl around in the dewy grass. She got bored before me, retreating back to the warmth of her own blanket on the chair but I sat for a while before my morning coffee began calling.
Earlier this week, following a really cold night I was keen to get outside to see what had been caught in the sparkling frost. The grains of the old wooden bench were coated in silver accentuating their cracks and lines, the tiny garden table was glistening and had autumn leaves frozen to its surface and a pink flower from a tired summer display had just been caught by a tiny amount of sunshine, freeing it from its frozen facade.
The next time you are looking out the window, or walking down the street take notice of your surroundings and consider how much of your natural habitat you never see because it is always there for you.
This post is the first in a series entitled Still Looking.