After a month long sabbatical, today I returned to work.  I call it a sabbatical because it sounds grown up and important and as if I am doing something worthy with my time.  Researching the lesser spotted snoddlegrass perhaps or volunteering in the Home for Grumpy Old Men or maybe knitting hats for bald eagles.  None of these are the case.  It mainly involved good intent and excessive inertia.  Oh, and chocolate.

After a dreary December I was ready for a break and the thought of sog and mud free days was enticing.  For the last couple of weeks I have been restless to return.  Batteries recharged.  My clothes a little tighter.  Ready for action.

It rained, of course, but not until just before lunch.  And it was lovely to be part of the Westwell Hall pack again.  My cleaned and sharpened tools are dirty, my coat mud-encrusted, twigs are in my hair, order has been restored and all is well in the world.