|Another glorious Speyside sunrise, winter 2015|
The impulse to blog has left me entirely over the winter. I didn't set out to be an autobiographical blogger, although I love reading blogs which reveal their writer. My initial purpose was to show my beautiful country through photos and perhaps a few words. Many a time I have taken a photo which I wanted to share, but couldn't really construct a blog post around, and I have shied away from too many random collections on this blog, although again I love seeing other people's. And then there was time. I work full time. I am tired in the evening. I had other commitments. Then, further derailment, I discovered Instagram, which gave me exactly what I wanted in my time-strapped state - a stand-alone photo and a few words. So I've been treacherously Instagramming, all the while neglecting this poor blog.
These have been ongoing minor problems, if they can be classed as problems at all. But this winter has also been a period of sadness and retreat. My father was in hospital from October until just before Christmas, but fell ill again shortly after coming home and died early in the New Year. It's not something I feel like writing further about here, not because the illness, decline and loss of a parent hit less hard than those of a spouse, as I was deeply distressed to read one blogger suggest recently, but because I am a private Scot.
But today the Spring sun is reaching a certain spot in the garden that despite the frost makes me feel that life is moving forward very slowly. And part of that sense of moving forward is a very big change coming up in my life that feels as if it's beginning to be within reach. At the end of May I will take early retirement from 29 years with one employer, and embark on a process of career change. I have several plans taking shape, among them going back to my first love, the subject of my degrees, and reconnecting with the French language. There's still a lot to be got through at work before the end of May, so at the moment I'm at the 'quietly ecstatic' phase.
If I can work out how to transfer photos from my Android phone to my new Macbook there will be more photos on this blog, and I may have to steel myself to a few random collections if I can't drum up a coherent narrative. My blog post writing muscle is all out of condition - it has felt very strange writing this post, and it may well read strangely too. If it's too strange, there are always just photos on Instagram!