Just to say.

I cannot think of anything big or profound to say. I have spent all week trying to sit down and write a post and everything felt wrong or silly or useless. I used to think that everything I posted should be loaded with meaning, loaded with impact or importance, as if that could always be the case. A little naive, perhaps.

But now I always go back to Norah Ephron when I think about writing posts or about blogging in general. She wrote this:

But the other point I want to make is that getting heard outside the world of blogs occasionally requires that you have something to say. And one of the most delicious things about the profoundly parasitical world of blogs is that you don’t have to have anything much to say. Or you just have to have a little tiny thing to say. You just might want to say hello. I’m here. And by the way. On the other hand. Nevertheless. Did you see this? Whatever. A blog is sort of like an exhale. What you hope is that whatever you’re saying is true for about as long as you’re saying it. Even if it’s not much. 

And it is so reassuring to know that I can just tell you all right now this little thing:

I am sat on the comfiest sofa in the house, looking out through the large glass doors at the garden. The light outside is a greyish yellow, and drops of rain patter delicately into puddles on the patio. All the yellows in the garden seem illuminated by this yellowy light as the sun pushes its way more strongly through the clouds. The daffodils, the moss in the grass, a yellow blossom in a tree at the bottom of the garden, the seat of my old swing. And then to contrast, deep and lovely purples in the flower bed nearest to me. And it is all lovely, and I am really calm.

And I just wanted to share that with you.