As I write while sitting at my desk, through the glass windows I lose myself in the immense ‘oil on canvas’ in which I am lucky enough to live. Marietto, a vigilant cat alert to the potential intrusions of crawling or four-legged enemies, sleeps curled up on my lap and seems unaware of all that goes on in the other realm, the vegetable realm. I wonder how he can be so indifferent to a Nature that whispers, smiles and explodes in a kaleidoscope of scents and colours. I cannot help but be grateful and surprised, every day, for so much beauty lavished on me, which makes me confidently say that life is nothing but an immense miracle. I enjoy these interminable moments, which are very much in keeping with our true essence, now for most, lost. Only she, Mother Nature, is left to remind us how to live, in a world gone mad with haste and regulated only by the passing of the hands. And she does so in her own time, with her own gifts and her own inexorable slowness. There will come a time for chattering, for waking up at dawn, for typical summer rhythms, and it will be beautiful, just be aware that, in this life, there is a time for everything.