Mainly dry with some short periods of brightness or even sunshine.
The weather forecaster has been reassuringly accurate. I did enjoy the sense of anticipation engendered by the words even sunshine. For a few minutes at dusk horizontal golden rays slipped through beneath a band of cloud. That was welcome, even momentarily: brief encouragement at the winter solstice.
This is the winter view from the valley trails: fields and woods glimpsed through a skeleton bereft of foliage. Beyond the rickety hedges fields lie dormant. Woodlands patiently await new life. The land lies in suspended animation. Yet awaken it will. Sunshine at dusk refreshed my memory of that.
The valley trail runs through old woodland coppiced by many generations. Within my lifetime shepherds used willow hurdles on the hills all about. But not any more. The skill of hurdling is not quite lost however electric fence is an easier way to contain flocks. The woods, then, are silent.
The wood was silent save for the splashing of hooves in the mud. After days of rain the trail has become wet and slippery. Carefully we walked, easy on fragile ground and gentle upon the memory of those who wrought a living from this place.
Above horse and rider spindly branches met shielding us in their loneliness, enclosing Brena and I within their quiet dank world. Overhead the branches touched fingers and held hands, imploring us to return when new leaves are grown and the sun shines through dappling a dry floor.
We shall return. These wintry woods are an old friend temporarily fallen on bleak times. By his strength and age-old wisdom he shall pull through. We shall meet on a day of warmth and light when birds flit between sunbeams. Then I shall pause Brena and let her eat the new lush grass.
Today especially, in the midst of the dark point of the year, I long for awaited spring. It will come! But now nature counsels me to rest and reflect.
Comments