Good Grief 191

Right, I'm getting irritated now.
I've started to write something several times and deleted it and started again.
Damn, I've just done it again ...
That struggle to find the words ... partly because this is a backblip, partly because the emotional landscape is so fluid, the weather systems have raced across the desert, funneled though the barren canyons, ranged the empty plains and found nowhere to settle, nothing to shine on, nowhere to be still and bask, no place worth stopping to allow growth and regeneration, no home to rest peacefully in. Just an agitated restless, unsettled malignancy, rolling around like thunder.
Like the 'rough beast', I 'slouched' to my friend's, weary of myself. Preferring to be alone but knowing I needed to try and it would be ok.
I wanted to wash F. and wanted company as I did - not least because it's dodgy and needs ladders.
It is a place of such life and continuity. Not easy, but rich. Full of volume and depth. As we wandered the garden even the wendy house is still there, it's original use long since passed, all adults now, but it makes for a handy wood store and looks across to the veg patch watching from the past.