October Morning Walk

  

I have just returned from a walk. With plenty to do, I shouldn’t have succumbed but the lure of this cold, sunny morning proved irresistible and before I knew it, I was opening the garden gate and walking along the local roads and lanes.  The little voice that usually tries to spoil the fun with ‘you ought to be doing such and such’, didn’t even bother whispering today, for it knew it would be pointless.  At sunrise, I had noticed the pink tipped clouds through the veil of mist, and took my cup of tea out into the garden where the steam from the hot drink mixed with that of my breath.  The cold nipped my fingers and slapped my cheek, rousing me from my sleepy state.  I was fully  awake now, alive to every little nuance, sight, sound and smell around me.  I drank it in.  On going indoors, I washed the breakfast things, immersing my hands in the warm, bubbly water and before I knew it, I was at the gate with coat on and hands deep in my pockets.  Nothing on my mind, just following my own footsteps.

What did I see on my walk this morning?  The sun in one direction, casting its warm rays onto the bodies of the sheep dozing blissfully in the fields.  I saw tree sparrows and green finches zig-zagging across the lane and darting amongst the branches of the trees and hedges, twittering loudly to each other. Rooks called from the tree-tops and a robin increased the volume of his song against the background of their raucous noise. 

I reached a gap in the hedge, a field-gate, and from there I watched the last thin wisps of morning mist fade to reveal nature in her Autumn dress.   No admission charge at this entrance to an exhibition of the highest Art.  Nature is generous and bestows her gifts freely on all who are prepared to stop and look.  The mountains lay in the distance yet every path and chasm was clearly visible.  In the near distance, a group of four or five trees were ablaze, as though red and orange flames were engulfing their leafy canopies.  Green fields surrounded me, laid to pasture, interspersed in places by some that were a pale golden colour following the harvesting of wheat and the cutting of hay.  A brown thread ran here and there between these fields, the recently ploughed rich, dark soil now visible and dotted with black and white specks where rooks and sea-gulls foraged for food.   To my left, spread over the wood like a patchwork quilt were trees and shrubs bedecked in varying hues and shades of yellows, golds, reds, oranges and  browns.

I stood mesmerised by such beauty and drifted out of myself to meet the fields, trees, birds and sky without moving from my vantage point.  I don’t know how long I was gone but I was roused from my trance-like state by the sound of someone saying ‘Thank you.’  
It was me. 

“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

L.M. Montgomery, 

 Anne of Green Gables

December Sunrise

(Photo - Wikimedia Commons)

I watched the sun rise this morning, and I do not have the words to convey what I saw.  The adjectives, descriptive terms and analogies ran through my mind but not one can do justice to what I witnessed.  I cannot draw or paint to show you the beauty of the morning so I must use words, however inadequate, to describe the scene.

At first, a sea of pinks and purples ran across the dark sky and a red glow appeared along the horizon.  This grew in intensity and burnt orange-red, upwards and outwards, until looking at the sky in the east was like looking into a burning fire.  The sun peeped over the hill, bright gold, against the flaming backdrop.

I moved cross the bedroom to get a better view and saw the sun behind a line of silhouetted trees. It climbed higher in the sky between the two extended main branches of an oak and appeared as though it was enveloped and nestled by the limbs of the tree.  I wondered how many years the mature oak has stood in that spot and the number of times the rising sun cast its light on it. The thought struck me that no matter how long I live, I will never see as many sunrises as the oak tree.  

From the moment I stopped to look at the sky, the ‘to do’ list had tugged at my conscience like an impatient child tugs on its parent’s hand.  Now, I dismissed it from my mind and continued looking out the window.  Yes, there are things to do and places to be but I have only a limited number of sunrises that I can watch, finite opportunities to drink in the beauty and timelessness of nature.  I didn’t waste time this morning nor was I idling; I was living - truly living, if only for a few moments before the mundane took over.