Journal writing

A couple of years ago this wintry glorious sunset was the view from the bedroom. Picking it at random brought back precisely what I felt at the time and my awe at Nature's magic.

At a time when going away is not an option, I've decided to revisit the hundreds of special moments in the past, to re-appreciate them rather than rush on hoping for something more in the future. This is not to dwell in the past but to live the moment in this moment.

Ten years ago we went with a girlfriend to Burgundy, staying in a newly refurbished cottage and I kept a journal. This week, in one ofour regular, rather long telephone chats I was saying we couldn't go away for several reasons, and how I had found the diary I had kept of that holiday. It was a brand new Moleskin notebook, with pages too beautiful to spoil. But I did. I read out to her some fragments, such as (in my inelegant prose) "The Hautes Beaune and mountains, wooded gorges, peaceful and fresh revealed a great treasure on the circuit to Nuits St George - a flower meadow so beautiful that might have been designed by Dan Pearson - but too good to be anything but an accident. Bright fuschia orchids, blue salvia, yellows, creams  fabulous. Stopped on roadside for picnic. Foray into woods revealed two horses who were sheltering from the sun, beautiful cobby farm horses."

And there we were, back in the warm Burgundian sun, with joyous hearts at Nature's power. Without the written journal, maybe it wouldn't have become such a vivid memory. So, we won't be going away, but we will go back to our photos and diaries of some wonderful holidays