My desk is at a window. Nothing much distracts me while I'm at it. That's why I choose to live here. It's also why I long for home when away, especially in the city.
My 'distractions', at most, count among the following: the cobalt blue of the sky in winter, elephant gray and pregnant storm clouds of summer; every month a surreal and bright big, fat Dutch cheese of a full moon that gasps my breath away.
There's also the wind in the trees; are they bare or not, perhaps in bud or in fact falling?
It's also mostly silent.
This very second - exactly in front of me, two metres away at most - a single sunset-orange Barberton daisy is my focus, has me transfixed.
There's also two medium-sized crows crying, circling the air. I don't know crows from here, were there any last year?
To lift my eyes, then my head from the laptop screen, is to notice far above, the clouds that warn of a cold spell coming, probably of the last batch. Spring is here.
What worries me is the abnormally mild winter, that the August winds have not yet come.
I know it's far away, and try as I might to stop my ears, even as I sit here I can hear the slow drip-drip of the melting of an iceberg in Antarctica. It's a mere drop at a time....
(Full moon tonight at 21h16... Hooray!)