Archive - Nov 2009

Hallo birdsong, hallo dark blue of unlit morning, and cool air, and gently dripping leaves.  I have lights to shine my way here, sitting under the bare hawthorn with my feet floored by its leaves mingled with oak.  It has been so wet but in between the sky opens and we can journey forth again with ease. 
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I am tired, every cell is on standby, my mind resting in a nest of cotton wool.  Yet how lovely it is to come into the garden and feel its peace, to see the brown leaves glowing on the green grass, to smell their spicy earthiness where they lie in number under the oak tree.  What do people do who don’t have gardens to sojourn in, or neighbouring fields or woods to wander through?   read more »

Mid-November Sunday and the crows are cawing overhead; I wonder what has disturbed them.  Not the gently floating clouds moving steadily from the west, or the pale blue sky beyond.  Not the sun just rising in a silver halo, further south than in summer, caught in the valley between two houses looking like a delicious cocktail.  So many other birdsongs fill the air making trills or tunes,  read more »