I left London on Thursday… the most beautiful day, but it was hard to concentrate. The world was holding its breath. 
I arrived in Dorset, exhausted. Charlie was awake early the following morning. I wasn’t sure I was ready to get out of bed, but he was meeting our neighbour Nicky for their regular walk. I dragged myself up.
Thank goodness.
However strange the world, however tired my mind, there is nothing more peaceful and restorative than this hour, tramping up the hills and down again, as a new dawn is breaking.
Mist hung over the fields, and pockets of frost lay here and there.
First light on the hills. 
This timeless place has seen it all. As some kind person commented on my instagram photographs of this view, you can imagine Roman Legionaries marching over these same ancient hills on a morning like this. 
Today, it was just us. 
It was a beautiful day, but I had my head deep in work, and the world had its head deep in politics. As the sun lowered, the house was filled with an astonishing light.
We climbed the scaffold (the windows are being painted and repaired at the moment).
A different perspective as dusk fell…
Charlie has spent the last week digging a huge patch in the meadow for his show veg and flowers for 2021. Gardening is the most optimistic pursuit of all. 
Saturday. A heavy mist had rolled in. The fog felt apposite. 
And then the news broke, yesterday afternoon, that the result had been called for the American election.
It has been an eternal drum beat of mine, these last 10 or 12 years now, that at the end of the day, everything will be alright. Democracy has spoken. But the beauty of democracy is that she is neutral. She spoke also when the President was elected, four years ago; and she has spoken again, now. The key is to listen not only to the now, and the excitement of the 75 million who have spoken so loudly, but to answer the worries of the other 70 million as well.
I pray for peace, for healing; and for oil to be poured gently, wisely, on the troubled waters of America.
This morning, we had a quiet moment at the War Memorial, remembering, as we always do, the seven men of this tiny village who died during the First World War. 
Afterwards, rain clearing, Charlie and I took the dogs for our walk. 
This is the Collect for this Sunday, that was read in our brief commemoration by the war memorial.
Almighty Father,
whose will is to restore all things in your beloved Son, the King of all:
govern the hearts and minds of those in authority, and bring the families of the nations,
divided and torn apart by the ravages of sin, to be subject to his just and gentle rule;
who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Keep us, good Lord, under the shadow of your mercy in this time of uncertainty and distress.
Sustain and support the anxious and fearful, be with those who care for the sick,
and lift up all who are brought low; that we may rejoice in your comfort
knowing that nothing can separate us from your love in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Amen.
