The Gleaner

When we have days – and we all have them – in which the grey seems to sit on our shoulders in a cold, dreich puddle, what do we do about them?

We could dream about our Antipodean friends, who, bemoaning the heat, sip home-made lemonade and languish in the shade. (Send me some of that sun, guys!)

We could wait for spring to come and cheer us up.

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We can listen out for��the blackbirds whistling, bravely defying the frost, sunning their plumage in the rare, low light that pierces the hedgerows.

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That sets up the thought that really, birds are astonishing. They��perch patiently��outside through the winter, braving sub zero temperatures, and at the first sign of brightness or calm, they sing.

 

Even in a snowstorm, I have heard a robin singing.

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And we can be gloomy for about five minutes, before finally deciding that there is no mileage left in that, and we might as well get up, have something to eat, and sing along to the radio. We might as well do something different, something that feels good, anything that feels better.

So that is what I do. I eat breakfast, I pray and say thank you, and I bless the blue sky and the birds, and the cold water that gushes from the��tap and wakes me up with a jolt. I bless my life and all its circumstances: the grey, for giving me some reason to decide differently; and the bright, for helping me to move towards better. In all of these circumstances, there are lessons to glean. And that is what I do.