Watching the black dog slowly slinking out of the door

And sometimes it’s the Saturday mornings, the pushing through to get out on the hills to watch the sunrise, the making a playlist about sunrises, the listening to interesting profound people in my ears as I wander around the golf course.

Sometimes it’s the realisation that I’ve seen these leaves from their birth as buds to their fall to the ground as I’ve walked these paths.

Sometimes it’s the returning to my family, chaos all over the floor, detritus of games and fun, a husband in the kitchen making monkey bread for our adventures, putting together our Saturday morning indulgence of brioche and bacon.

Sometimes it’s the music of Martyn Joseph perfectly soothing my soul, there is still a lot of love out there, still a lot of love, still a lot of love.

Sometimes it’s singing loudly whilst the small ones cry at me, sometimes it’s gazing long and deep at the hills out of our kitchen window with a big grin on my face because there is still a lot of love out there, still a lot of love.


Sometimes it’s all these things and more.


And the black dog slowly slinks out the door.

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