Apologies for my long pause in writing—we have had a very hectic winter season, though with the conclusion of a large, long-term project (about which I hope to share more in the near future), I have hope that things will quiet down again and my writings here will become more regular.
It is winter. I miss springtime. I enjoy winter, most especially Christmas, but winter too—though the cold winds and sleeping trees make me miss warm tranquil breezes and soft pink sunsets at seven. I am in a Jane Austen mood, as a result. Jane Austen and her novels seem to me to be in perpetual springtime.
The last year was surprisingly difficult for me. I started 2021 out quite well, but I feel like I lost the plot around this time last year. I hope to be picking it up again. I am far behind on tidying the house—a fact which will necessarily cut short this dispatch—but I feel that as I catch up, things are beginning to feel right again. You may find your own metaphor in that. And 2021 was not unmixed difficulty: there were quite a number of good and pleasant things, too. And for that I am thankful.
I am thankful for the ability to keep this blog and for your desiring to read it this past year (and, by the looks of it, now, too). So, thank you. For someone who feels so strongly a need to share the things that I love with the world, your willingness to oblige and read and receive is quite seriously indispensable. Again, thank you.
I look forward to continuing to make this a place of rest and joy in the upcoming year, and I look especially forward to sharing it with you.