It could be hot buttered toast piled high with butter and damson jam lying in thick wads of deliciousness, reminding me of summer in the bitter days of January
It could be the smell of fresh cut grass or deep blue sky flecked with wispy clouds. Or the sound of jazz men strutting their stuff on the record playing in the other room.
It could be the clothing confusion caused by unpredictable weather patterns emanating as garments strewn across the floor in mess and muddle.
It may be the smell of roasting meat coming from the kitchen, or it could be fresh baking. All that butter and eggs, sugar and flour weaving a magic all of their own in the oven’s heat, finally arriving as an ambrosian cake on my lips.
It could be the sight of ten-day-old piglets making their first tentative steps out of the pen and into the world, suddenly rushing with delight, half fearless half fearful at the newness of it all.
Maybe it is all, or none of these things, that remind us there are few things in the world that really matter; food, shelter, warmth and love, mostly love.
LOVE indeed is all that nourishes and fills our most basic needs. Thank you, dear Anna, for this gentle reminder.