Time moves on and we get used to it. As our accustomed minds gradually and continually fill up with life find ourselves shocked when we take note to see an hour or a week has passed with not much to show other than an underlying sense of non-achievement.
The terminal feeling of helplessness at the passing of time is part of the human condition. The only way I can attempt to ameliorate this is to reflect and remember details – and remember that the hours are the same speed they always were.
A camera, a view on a bright, clear early Spring day. A sailing yacht at anchor, a flock of Oystercatchers and their ember-red feet. Life in the rockpools after a dull winter, fishing trawlers coming in.
Spring, clean and crisp. Views to Devon in the pure air, travels in Cornwall, as always. Coastal. A coastal time. Early swim.
Warmth in June. Lush and verdant. Humid walks amongst damp tall grasses, pollen and midges in the late afternoon sunlight.
Cold swims in the ocean, beach dust and tobacco smoke.
Mown grass and garden spiders in September, fattening in their careful webs. Craneflies and the roads quieten. Peaceful and warm.
Autumn was all change. Job, house, life. All of it. The most colourful Autumn for years.
And then the change to Winter.
And the impetus stutters and stalls in winter.
This winter has been far more beautiful than the last.Cornwall shines in the winter I think.
So resolutions and the like are made and it’s nearly February.