ANGELS WORSHIPING AT THE CROSS

12 march Tuesday

10.15.  Bad night, I woke feeling shaky as if my blood pressure were very high.  I am not smelling fresh due to hot flushes.  My finger nails have a green tinge so my body is lacking something.  Every morning I feel so dreadful my blood must race around all night at top speed to cause me such disruption on waking.  The pain in my feet and ankles is disturbing enough each night waking me with their heaviness.  It feels as though heavy weights on my ankles are locked tightly around my feet like stiff tight leather boots as were once used to crush and torcher people in the old times passed.  

     I am tempted to go out in  the snow that is falling fast  furiously decorating where it has fell earlier mixing in with the brown slush on the road. 

      Our garden has the appearance of a glass palace the snow giving the vista a majesty, where it has built up on its self it looks fluffy and puffy.  It has swollen out on the trellises and branches fattening  twigs and weighing down rose leaves. The grass is now the deepest  most luxurious carpet I have ever seen.  The light in the bed room is amazingly bright  every thing is in silent mode  this morning except for  Edward-Harry who is in an angry mood.

11 MARCH Diary

Jayne phoned.  took photos . snow all day.

8.30 Driving wet snow. White sky.  The snow appears to be hurl ling its self with tremendous force at the earth.  Large pieces of sleet being driven by the east wind down Loungeville road. The world is the limitation of my eyesight's view from the bed through the window and across the road, where it is halted by the faces of the houses opposite that rise up into the white sky the grey slated of their roofs partially coated in snow.

       I wonder how many miles one flake of frozen water could be propelled  by the currant wind speed before disintegrating.  I suppose it depends on the directions of the force its self.  The speed of the wind is making the snow appear as tiny white dots not flakes as it rushes passed the window to continue on down the street.  It hardly has any time to settle on the colourful tops of the commuter vehicles before exploding into tiny droplets that slide down the car windscreens like huge tears. 

      The heating is on full and we are safe and warm in our bed.  Beside me Edward-Harry is reading a library book while I watch the snow, it is being driven so fast I can hardly distinguish one flake in the blur of white. 

    When there is a break in the momentum the flakes  appearing are like wings fluttering in a hopeless dance before crashing to death on  the tarmac...