Single digit numbers feel clean to me. A new start - less space to work with - this new, clear month begins (although I am posting it two days later) with the singularity - with listening to the birds, to the washing machine . Children abound - and I feel heavy and tired - though sleep was restful.

It’s part of this day, this moment where I can feel myself waiting to hold - waiting to just fall back asleep.

Wet bed sheets, early morning shower - hot fire to dry wet bodies. Lunches made, dishes pilling and why am I so addicted to my screen right now? Looking for momentary kicks from a pre-pitched client, a girl, or any funny distraction on Instagram.

The real resides mostly when I am outdoors with my real self - sensate being - and this wild world of plant, animal, kingdom. My eldest son has just walked by with a handful of miners lettuce from the garden and some pink purple flowers that he says are edible. This interruption in writing is well appreciated as I struggle to find anything much of value to scribble.

Daughter gone past now too - to feed the chooks. She has built quiet a relationship with Harriet - the he/she rooster-ette. Sits on her lap quiet comfortably and feeds - oh, these joys - intersection of outdoors and children lift my spirits - tell me where life really is - enables me to let go my self berating for technology use and just BE. HERE. NOW.