Once off the work wheel does one just replace it with a different wheel? I am in France, in a small village in the Eastern Pyrenees. Today I have been for a walk around the cemetry and marvelled at the long lives most here have lived. This afternoon I finished my book and whilst all slept I tried to sketch but was too unrestful. So I walked back to the river to watch birds, those I had not seen, for want of my binoculars, that morning. But there were virtually none. It was a very hot afternoon out in the sun for anyone. I lent over the brige to see the Castellean flowing beneath.On the terraced gardens to the side someone was weeding their vegetable plot. Two others sat under a tree, enjoying the shade, one sewing a tapestry. How simple the life here seemed and communal, now fast disappearing.I recalled that my aunt was a tapestry maker. Yet though she must have gotten much pleasure from doing them it was never really matched by those she gave them to. But did that matter? It was maybe the making and giving that counted, not the piece of woven fabric. What happened when she had finished it? Satisfaction for a while. Then a void. Then another one? When that person died would the tapestry, so lovingly undertaken beneath the tree, just be turned out, destroyed, along with many other personal possessions, suddenly unwanted? Are the longer lives here attributable to the exercise and quality that comes from growing their own food. Yet it looks back-breaking too. However, why do it? Why do any of it? Sometimes I conclude that as we do not know why we are here we may as well make the best of the time we have. That is fine if one never asks what is the point of that, of reading a book, spotting a bird, growing your radishes, strimming the lawn.There are things which give me pleasure, love, a laugh with friends, a smile received and given, a walk in early evening Springtime.But when I stand back and observe the context, wonder this question and the cemetery it is hard to see ultimately the purpose in it all and yet at the same time, how dearly I hold on to life and wish the longevity of us all.Do others never wonder?

snow and its joys

We have now surfaced from the recent "White In" of the UK. The snow here, in London, has melted away returning, to us, the comfort of our familiar surroundings. The recognisable dirty, grey, wet pavements with clear curbs and slip-free surfaces. The warmer weather. We are now safer to venture out. Yet I open the curtain to see this world returned - and miss the joys of the snow. Its smooth soft covering over of detail and texture. A pure whiteness contrasted with black outlines giving the cityscape a clean, minimalist simplicity that was a beauty to behold. A Feng Shui of our surroundings. Venturing out too was fun. The sound and feel of scrunching snow beneath our boots. Kids, and larger kids (aka adults) building snowmen and tobogganing down the local smallest of slopes with glee. The patterns and prints on the frozen ponds and the swans still landing as if it were water. People could not get into work and, for a week or so, the country was turned into both panic and pleasure. Snow is a rarity here so we are hopeless at coping with it in the way other experienced nations do. The media, which always welcomes a problem, made the best of whipping it into a frenzy for fear of appearing boring. Despite their best efforts, it seemed that, in contrast, people did not seem panicked and took it with the usual acceptance. Where there were real problems a "Dunkirk spirit" re-emerged we thought lost. And yet, at times the snow also turned us into recluses, frightened of falling over on the ice. But how good it was to appreciate the cosiness of our home, the sofa and not to feel bad that we were not "living our lives" to the full by speeding out to exploit the potential of all on offer…or being lazy. So maybe the snow did not "turn us" into recluses but gave us permission to stay in and put our feet up. Enjoy our homes. Certainly I am now well into reading "How to be Idle". May I now learn the joy from both...