Letting go...

They cut the grass on the green yesterday, which means that at 08.00 am, as I sit here with the doors wide open to let in the sunlight and the sounds of a blackbird singing, the delicious scent of freshly-mowed grass fills my lungs and my heart.

It is delicious, this summer morning freshness with its promise of a hot day to come.   

And I am, once again, in the process of letting go.
Letting go and packing my possessions for another move.

It's something I am good at, being the child of nomadic parents and the product of seven junior and five senior schools, I live like a camel train, ready to up and leave with each new dawn, although not quite as frequently, but it's that mentality.

Home is where the heart is, or, in my case, the dog and the books and soon, I sincerely hope, the horse, but that is another story to be saved for another day.

And though I sometimes miss the places where I've been, the village green I've walked on thrice daily for almost seven years, the lanes where I've wandered, the untidy flower-filled corners that seem to grow around me wherever I put down my short roots...

And even though it means leaving behind the bush that I have dutifully pruned and tended so that this year it has more blossoms than ever before...

Even so,  nothing lasts forever and life is one long, slow-moving river that runs, eventually, to the sea.

So, this is me today...
Contemplative, a little nostalgic, noting all that I will miss...
And knowing that forwards is really the only way to go.