Dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field.

Here's what I've learned - people will hurt you, but you don't have to respond: Not every mean comment or cruel act deserves to be noticed.

The winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows.

If you want your own distinctive voice, you first have to become someone.

Freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night.

The abyss you stare into and that stares back at you is your reflection in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart.

Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable.