A new year is soon to dawn. Bright and shiny as a magpie’s trove. From January, I can wave to April and the onset of spring. A cheery, yellow wave like a clutch of daffodils; a wave which pays homage to longer days and the promise of sunshine, bare feet and river swimming. These things sustain me when all else falls away: indomitable mother nature, who for all the tidal waves of rubbish and poison we throw at her continues to bless us. We defile our pretty nest, and still she feeds and shelters us. She really is the best of women. I try to take my cues from her where I can.