green, green my days are green

One of the enduring memories of my journey with depression a few years back was the blackness of it all. Nothing touched me, not people and certainly not beauty. A stunning scene, a golden day, lightly scented roses - none of it moved me. As the depression began to lift, the stand out moment was walking home from work and feeling a frisson of delight at the gilt silver edge of the clouds.

I think I may have had such a moment today, but it wasn't clouds this time, it was the green, green grass on my drive to Ross and back.

I've been troubled all spring at my lack of joie de vive as the trees dressed themselves up, the birds went crazy with love songs for one another and flowers bust open on every bush. It may just be me, but that has to have been the dreariest winter I've ever seen in Launceston. I anticipated a little dizzying joy at the coming of spring, but no such emotion.

That was my sign (one of many) that things were not so good in Cecily street. Just last week I related my decision to be honest and give some self care... and I think it's already working. Getting up at six each day for a walk may not be everyone's cup of tea, but boy has it added a zing to my days... a spring to my step even!

And now it's added colour. I'm not there yet I know. This isn't the most terrible depression ever (not even close) and I need to keep working on things, but I'm going to take the encouragement of the day.

Green. Green against a back drop of beautiful mountains.

Perhaps next time I will stop and stare a while, instead of just sneaking quick glances as I drove along my way. (I have a theory we are too focused on deadlines and clocks and schedules, and we don't take time for good things that will bring healing. Not stopping today is an example) For now I breathe 'thank you' for the colour splashed so verdantly across my path.