Thursday, 7 October 2010


Oak trees are often hit by lightning because they usually stand alone. They have thick, tough bark and softer cores of buttery wood. The lightning splits them apart, bursting through them from within, because when it strikes, it travels down through them and they explode with light.

It's my favourite month, and there has been sublime unseasonal sunshine on top of the autumnal deliciousness. I am reading 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter' for the first time, learning butterfly-fragile lines of prose from it because they are too heart-beatingly beautiful to forget. There are so many interesting and amazing things happening around me, melodies flying and chances arriving.
How and why, then, do I feel so entirely uninspired?
I miss summer strawberries and warm, white sands.
This might have something to do with it.