July — Winter.  Fade to red.

I am the first to admit that July almost always represents the winter of my soul (not discontent; that would be going too far).  At this time of year my mind tends to dwell on the negative and by some unconscious impulse, I dress in mourning.  This year my existential July crisis has been exacerbated by some serious hypoglycemia incidents that I have suffered, leaving me wondering each night whether this will be the time I don’t wake up in the morning.  So I often don’t go to bed.  That’s tiring and ineffective.  My little dog also requires a full-time carer.  (That’s another story.  Also tiring).

You know that feeling when you are so tired that you think it wouldn’t be so bad if you died but, at the same time, you want to cling on to dear life because your family, friends and animals need you?  It is a conundrum.  (My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, this is turning out rather more solemn than I expected.  Also, Martha Kennedy has written a blog like this recently.  Bear with me.)  By some other unconscious impulse, I seek sanctuary outdoors.  Made glorious by the sun and wind.  (Sorry.  I couldn’t resist).  What did I learn? Read more