It was an early morning this Sunday, up baking fresh baguettes for breakfast with a few to share with our local crofters cooperative.
We share labour on the local crofts on one Sunday each month, and the host croft provides lunch.
Warm, freshly baked bread is always a welcome contribution.
We’ve had snowfall in this last week up here on Skye, although it’s melting now. Blue skies, cold bright sunshine and drifts of powdery snow.
The polycrub is covered and the vegetable beds are buried, the occasional kale or Brussels sprout stem sticking up like a strangled beacon.
I love the snow. Although not the icy slippyness of it underfoot.
I’ve become nervous of it in my old age now, overly cautious. I miss the recklessness of youth, throwing myself into the snow with no thought or fear, just the joy of the sensation. Back in the day when fitness wasn’t a problem and my knees still worked properly.
Today I enjoy it more from my armchair by the fire, watching it swirl around the house through our big windows, happy to be warm and comfortable.
Ravencroft Skye 
Every age has it’s own joys. The reckless abandon of youth gives way to the quiet contentment of middle age. Old age and nostalgia await us.
You are not into old age yet, the world seems to place the designation of old age further and further away each year. I often feel that I would love to retire, but the pension age keeps being moved back.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There’s the old age of the law and the old age that our bodies feel, and sadly they don’t always align🥲
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is the truth! Also, the old age of the mind.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Also true ❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person