January is upon us. This morning I watched a red kite circling outside our living room window. For a while I’ve suspected they are nesting in our road, because we’re almost guaranteed to spot one every time we look up. I’m often tempted to leave a bit of offal on the garden table to see if they’ll come down for it - but they may leave with a chicken instead, so maybe not… I usually love the depths of winter, but I could definitely do with a little less rain at the moment. A clear, frosty sky would be a great improvement on the mild, grey sludge that has enveloped Hampshire recently.
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This afternoon I popped to the library to stock up on novels, ready for being stuck under a feeding/sleeping baby. My guilty pleasure is crime novels - the grittier the better, those grizzly, pageturning ones you can’t wait to climb into bed with each night. My due date (and birthday!) is next week, so I’m definitely feeling in limbo at the moment, although it isn’t unpleasant. I’m keeping as chilled as I can, taking lots of baths and eating whatever I like, which is probably a good way for us all to live at this time of year. I’ve written on the Margin this week about my plans for 2023, but I’m actually really enjoying being forced not to do much right now. January is a slow, tricky month and there really isn’t any need for us to rush into plans and projects straight away. It’s still midwinter, after all. Left to our natural rhythms, we would still be in hibernation mode, so why hurl ourselves into the year before our minds and bodies are ready?