Sunday, 5 February 2012
A short walk
As it is so mild out again, I decided I would do a short walk to blow some of the cobwebs away and burn a couple of calories, having been stapled to the sofa all week. I took the car to the bottom of the hill, as I knew I wouldn't be able to struggle back up it at the moment, as my peak flow reading is still down (though improving).
It was a . . . mindful . . . walk. I was able to clear my mind of all my worries, and just really LOOK, noticing a sodden Celendine, and then one which had just burst into flower, and plenty of Celendine leaves pushing through now. Fresh grass on the banks, leaves of wild Strawberries and Ground Ivy, and in the wet Alder-carr woodland, whole rafts of Opposite-leaved Golden Saxifrage. The birds were singing - Robins and Great Tits mostly, whilst a Wren flew across the lane at ankle height, and I saw Blackbird after Blackbird in the trees beside the lane. A Jay's raucous call sounded from the Hazel copse, and I watched a Buzzard hunting for worms in one of the pasture fields which normally has sheep in. The deep red walls of Goitre farmstead were even darker after the rain and the house stood out against the winter-bleached fields around it.
Sheep grazed just below the Gorse coverts which surround the lips of the Iron Age hillfort and I watched a solitary Red Kite languidly riding a thermal. The emerald moss on the grey stone bridge was sporting a beard of scarlet and russet which held droplets of moisture, such an intense concentration of colour. The wheelrut of a tractor had turned into a mini-lake as a leaf-filled ditch, no longer maintained by the farm, seeped into it.
What we miss when we don't LOOK . . .