To be perfectly honest I was not going to write anything today, what with ‘the grind’ looming tonight and a million and one things to be done (does the bleedin’ list ever get shorter?), taking the time out to write a little blog post seems a luxury these days. So I thought I’ll just log on and check upon a couple of blogs and see if I had anymore junk e-mails offering to sell me Viagra or five million ways to quadruple me money (oh that’ll be twenty pence then!) whilst slurping upon a large mug of tea to brace myself for the traumas of the day and fortify me self for the dreaded night shift.
But then I stumbled upon my good friend Casey’s latest short post and it reminded me that sometimes just stopping and kicking back awhile is something that we all need to do upon occasion. So ‘balls to it’ thought I, I’ll write a little and then run around in a headless chicken type manner achieving absolutely bugger all before work calls me to its inevitable cloying grasp. So what to write? Oh I guess it’ll just have to be more of the same rambling about meandering as usual, what were you expecting, earth changing, deep and meaningful diction from this lowly scribe? A shame on you for not knowing me any better you fickle folk.
Me last post about meandering along the trails reflected about the change of mood that walking the wooded trails through the dimming evening light brings to me, where primeval fears bubble to the surface and our limited human senses become all to obvious. Every noise is magnified into a stalking creature and the shadows hide all manner of dark and foreboding hints. But these very same woods in the daytime welcome me with the chatter of birds and sights that fill me with awe, not always upon a grand scale but sometimes the smallest of vistas can still take me breath away.
Take my last couple of walks up at Nercwys Forest over the last few days. We’ve had showers and some heavier rain over the last week but each time I’ve dragged Willow to the fun cruiser the rain has magically eased and with enough blue in the sky to patch a sailor's trousers we set off.
The first thing to hit me as a reach the tree line is the smell. You know me and my lack of descriptive skills but the smell that greets you in the woods as the last of the rain drops splatter the ground fills me with can only be described as a high. Far better than anything when I used to dabble in the odd bit of weed or the odd mushroom (many, many years ago!), it feels like everything is fresher, some how more alive. Then there is the chatter of wildlife, no territorial bird ranting, just what sounds like birds singing for pleasure – almost as if the high of the freshly soaked woods is infectious. Then there is the light, with patches of sun beams now peering through the tree canopy, catching the jewel like glow of rain drops still clinging to branches. This light seems fresher and somehow purer than the usual early summer’s sunshine.
It’s as if the whole effect is one of renewal and rebirth even the trials have had all sign of footfall and tracks washed away and where the water has been heavy enough to gain a flow they could be mistaken for river deltas, but in miniature of course.
The joy of the walks even passed onto my thick companion, the Warthog! I thought that she was fast before but the speed that she blazed through the trees was jaw dropingly fast and all I could do was chuckle at her antics.
All that remains then is to share a few pictures with you, I hope that they convey a little of the joy felt upon these sodden trails. Oh and the feeling of mud squeezing through your toes as I walked barefoot for a time is one not to be missed, although me thinks Clare’s frown at the general mud splattered state of us as we tumbled through the front door did make me think twice (only for a moment) about repeating this trick. But her smile as she placed a plate of new potatoes and lamb chops and a glass of cider before me let me know that above all I was home and all was well. Oh the pictures…..
It’s when walking through the woods at this time that I feel a deep connection, far deeper than that which is normally with me and all thoughts of the rat race and any troubles that I may have evaporate with the gentle vapours of the rain in the pools of broken sunshine. I understand once more what draws me to nature and why my back sports the image of the Green Man, for this is where I come from and inevitably where I’ll return when I die, my body nourishing this planet which gives me so much joy and my atoms being passed onto to build something else. Rebirth or whatever you like to call it, it’s all part of the cycle of life on this planet. But that’s for the future, there are chores to be done, work to suffer, love to be cherished, joy (and pain) to feel before I’m done with this world. But on days walking when the woods are refreshed all this may be forgotten for awhile.
Till next time, take good care my friends,
John.
Oh and I will be playing catch up on more of your blogs shortly as well as sending out some belated e-mails. But for now the chickens and me are going to have an hour in the sun whilst a drink I tad more tea, so sod the chores today – I’ll catch up in the week, honest ;o).
Thought for the day;-
Kinky is using a feather,
Perverted is using the whole chicken.
