Port Edward

Lent broken with a glass of dry red, it's going down singing hymns.
Easter Sunday was wonderfully overcast, very grey and wet. Bed was the best place to stay, especially after 8 months of relentless challenges and stress, with very little room and space to rest, to regroup.
This Holy long weekend has been just that - a respite. In grace.
Baking in the autumn, sub tropical-sticky sun I'm again starting to look ahead... and my mind is whirling. First response was fear and insecurity at the task ahead, while my second - and ordered - response was one appreciating the just how much, and the great quality, of the water that has passed under the bridge.
Sun on my skin, salt air in my lungs, sea sand scrubbing toe and feet skin... joy. Great joy. (The sexiest is the pale skin, out of bounds and out of sun sight...those stories will come at another time.)
Despite the eight month 'respite', and having produced the worst, longest and most meaningless string of words (under pressure) ever, I know that mine - in the humblest sense - is the path through the forest strewn with words.
Best of all, here on the KZN / Eastern Cape border, Port Elizabeth and Grahamstown are NOT far away. In this year I will be back...

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