There are rituals around this time of the year that call to me.
There was something familiar and comforting in following the route we'd used since we first moved into the village. I stopped and breathed in the icy air - great lungful's of the bitterly sharp stuff making myself cough and my eyes water - took a moment to recover. Moss did give me a bit of a concerned look then sped off skittering and slipping on the ice with such a silly grin on her face leaving me gasping and wheezing and laughing.
The sky is a brilliant blue - one that fills my heart with such joy.
We're back now, most of the cards delivered, one or two still to write, but with a snoring dog and a steaming mug of tea there is a gentle feeling of satisfaction that this year and with this little ritual completed that small moments like these are worth treasuring.
I have not gone, I am still about, I just needed space to breathe. Sometimes simple things in life just seem to sparkle and I had felt to have lost that spark - I am hoping it has returned.