This morning it felt like spring. I heard the ‘Beast from the East’ might be coming soon, so I left my work and went for a long walk through the woods with a friend. It’s ‘her’ walk rather than mine, meaning that when I try to recreate it on my own, I get lost. Every time.
There are two silver birch trees that signal a crucial left turn, so I took a photograph of them, in the hope that it might help. As we walked, we scooshed our feet through the thick leaves and watched the dogs weave in and out of the browny clumps of bracken.
It was one of those walks that lifts your soul. There was sunlight and warmth and birds singing; great tits, blue tits and dunnocks, all marking down their territory for when breeding starts again. Nature was stirring. You could feel it in your bones.
When I got home, I pulled out my laptop and sat in the conservatory, even though it’s freezing, so I could enjoy the light. It’s fading fast now. The trees are making their lacework patterns against the sky and I can see smoke, pluming from next door’s chimney. Sooty black rooks are flapping from tree to tree, telling me there’s not much daylight left. I hope I’ve bottled it somewhere inside me. At least I took it while I could.
Dear Pigeon 