Months have flown without the passive time for a spot of blogging. Now the old routine returns and I resume. A morning quiet except for the bursts of birdsong - assorted parrots out there visiting the old pine trees to gnaw upon their cones. Now a strident clamour of corellas. Sometimes a shriek of black cockatoos. The lorikeets are more melodic in sound. They are visiting another tree for blossom. And the dear magpies, of course, are carolling and occasionally squawking a spot of territorial indignation as some outsider ventures too close.
It is a soft, grey morning. The sea has settled from the storms. The breeze is light. Such a beautiful world.
I lie abed and read with coffee at my side. It's a bliss of sorts. Almost.