Time and Time

When we first got here, the trees were bare, the daffodils were poking through the ground, and there was the smell of coal fires in the air. Then came the bluebells, the fluorescent yellow of the gorse, and the foxgloves. Now it's the rosebay willowherb (I had to look that one up, but it's one of my favorites). Too soon it's going to be the heather on the hillsides, which is going to mean fall is coming. There has still been the smell of coal fires in the air on any given day. The baby sheep that dotted the hillsides when we first arrived are gone, for the most part. Likely went for a last ride in the Livestock Lounge. =:-O The days are going by far too quickly. I kind of like telling time by flower rather than month.

Along the lines of the odd things I find interesting has been the time difference. I've been on a rather schizophrenic schedule, having to keep my work computer on Arizona time (I have the greatest job in the world, by the way), but living my life on Scotland time, so the fact of the roundness of the Earth plays with my mind every day. I start work at 8:30 in the morning, 12:30 in the morning in Arizona. I've got half my work day done and they aren't even awake yet. I'm going to bed and they're just back from lunch. The planet we are on, for as small as the internet and email and whatnot have made it, is .... There isn't a word for it when I let myself ponder the size of it. And without a sound, a few weeks ago it started tilting, telling the rosebay willowherb it was its turn, the heather to gear up for its turn, and the trees to get ready for a long winter snooze. On we go.