New Day

so I thought:
maybe death isn't darkness, after all,
but so much light wrapping itself around us —

as soft as feathers —
that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking,
and shut our eyes, not without amazement,
and let ourselves be carried,
as through the translucence of mica,
to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow,
that is nothing but light — scalding, aortal light —
in which we are washed and washed
out of our bones.
Mary Oliver, White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field

Mum died peacefully last night, my brother and his wife were with her. I’m grateful

I woke up early this morning and J and I walked up Almscliffe Cragg. What an amazing morning, on the one side the moon just before it disappeared behind the horizon, on the other early morning colour - we watched the sun rise as we stood at the top of the Cragg and a beautiful golden glow on the frosted ground and the trees as we came down. Beautiful morning for photography- sun and moon montages in extras

Brain foggy, and taking my time, but all things considered, it’s been a good day