Sink

When I first bought the house in Corfu, I remember a moment when I looked out of the back window at a single orange on the tree, black mould blanketing the leaves. In the far distance, forboding Pantokrator, the quiet volcano at the centre of the island. My heart sank at the enormity of the task ahead. Until that moment, the process of buying had had an unstoppable momentum. While there were many healthy oranges the following year, this season we’re back to the lonely flowering. Meanwhile, the lemon trees are raining lemons, and I don’t know how to make marmalade. I wonder if it’s time to go to the chapel at the mountain? There’s a darkness to inner strength, and it might be time to pray for guidance rather than repent at leisure.