There’s a gale blowing. Politicians from many places have apparently lost their senses. Christmas adverts feature everything from Kevin the Carrot to Elton John’s piano. It’s almost December… Soon it will be shopping.

What am I yearning for? Silence, solitude, and serenity.

I escaped on my bike a few days ago looking for all those things beginning with “S.” When I found them, they had an extra “S” for company. Pagham Harbour is a paradise for water birds, and this majestic swan slipped serenely between the reed beds and into a patch of sunlight. It was just what the soul needed. My cares shrank, and my spirits rose. The swan became a symbol for me of purposeful action in a calm moment.

There is a famous “Serenity Prayer” which goes like this:

O God and Heavenly Father, grant to us the serenity of mind to accept that which cannot be…

Oak leaves are falling into my garden. Little jigsaw-puzzle pieces lying around with no chance of re-assembly.  That tree may last for another century; the potential number of leaves in my garden is beyond count.

Each leaf has finished its work. A little chemical factory waving in mid-air, freshening the air and filtering carbon dioxide. Photosynthesis has changed sunlight into food for the tree. The tree is providing acorns to feed the squirrels. All is well.

You see this leaf? It’s floating in the bird bath and making an intriguing pattern. Subtle colours and muted tones suit its retired status. The only thing left for the oak leaves is making leaf mould. But for now it makes a nice photo.

I’ve pondered my retired status this week. Things take longer than they used to.

I’m leading “Life Groups” on photography; and on understanding the Old Testament. It’s enjoyable – but the…

As I write, the Prime Minister has been speaking in the House of Commons about one of the most divisive political issues I can remember. At this point, no-one knows what shape the British Isles will take in the future. Divided on party, class, and economy we face a real prospect of no longer being a United Kingdom- and have no clarity about our relationship with Europe or other potential trade partners.

Fingers are pointed, tongues wag, and hate crimes increase. What have we come to?

Many of us have strong political opinions, which is as it should be: but we seem to have forgotten how to disagree without blaming and victimising others.

I strongly suspect that the root of our troubles lies in the fact we have uprooted ourselves from our true foundation. We have, as a nation, cut ourselves “free” from God and we have chosen to go…

This beech tree is older than I am. It has survived storms and drought, summer heat and freezing cold. Every Spring soft new leaves unfurl, an umbrella of gentle green. Of all our British trees, the beech is blessed with beauty through the year. Summer gives dappled green shade, and then as Autumn develops the canopy turns golden, then bronze and rich brown. Winter shows off the graceful elegance of branches, underlaid by a carpet that hushes the footfall of man and beast. And so the seasons turn.

Standing at the base of the trunk, and aiming the lens straight up, produced this image of strength and dainty colour.

To stay strong, the tree sheds its leaves: it lets go of the growth that would endanger survival. Fully leaf-clad, the tree would be far more vulnerable to strong winds or heavy snowfall.

In any event, the tree has a rhythm…