Nick Drake Yoga


Last night watched the fog roll in. Light enough, it was that near full moon and every Orion star shown through. The frost followed hard. Its animation audible and all moving across the lawn.


This morning the world still silvery and crunchy. Sorted out the hens. Made offerings to the wild birds. Messed about in the kitchen; dishes, laundry, porridge. Cleaned out the ashes. Got a fire going; turf, hedgerow cuttings  a few lumps of coal. Then gathered survival supplies – mat, pens, paper, laptop, orange, nettle tea. Retreat. Set up the barricades.

Sanctuary is this sitting room with its now blazing fire.

(clothes of sand by nick drake: 




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