As a photographer and diarist, I’ve always welcomed the Autumn and Winter months as they have given me in times gone by, both stunning image opportunities and powerful word entries. But of late a nagging problem has to be factored into the months or short days and long nights, the ongoing problems with my skin.
In later life, my flesh has become dry and itchy, leaving me with many uncomfortable times, where all I want to do, is get into my night gear, and curl up in a warm room (not always the answer I hear you cry). I take better care of myself now than I’ve ever done, thanks in part to a thoughtful wife who purchases on my behalf, all the right products to alleviate the skin conditions, and I’m so grateful for that.
My own uneducated guess would be a change of location from the urban sprawl, to somewhere quieter, cleaner than where we are now. It may or may not happen, and it probably has nothing to do with my general health. But it’s something to consider, as we move into the early Autumn, while we are marveling (as we do every year), at the change of seasons, and the colours that burst forth.
My depression is being managed quite well, nothing major amiss, and this I put down to hour after hour these past few weeks, of reading (and writing) poetry. In a recent book clear out, I have discovered many collections and anthologies that had been forgotten. It’s a treasure trove, that I’m enjoying especially at bedtime, with a mug of Cardamom tea.
I met up with a valued and much cherished friend this week, who I haven’t seen for a couple of years. Her warmth and charm had me glowing, and I realized how much I had missed her company. Friends like this are so important in one’s twilight years.