These pylons may look a little out place in the fields of Kent, but the longer I’ve been aware of them the more they’ve become part of the landscape.
This dead tree always looks like a sentinel standing at the entrance of the barley fields. Whenever I pass it on my way to the woods on the right of this image, the old soldier in me wants to salute it. I love these fields which have produced crops and harvests year after year. They together with the skies of Kent give me a wonderful sense of spaciousness and freedom.
I enjoy walking through the woods. Whenever an opportunity to do so presents itself, I welcome it. There’s something so idyllic and peaceful about it. However, there’s also something a little strange about it. Many spaces in the woods have a wonderfully welcoming atmosphere about them, and lingering in them can be so uplifting and energising; but, there are also spaces that feel decidedly uncomfortable, disconcerting, even a little malevolent, and the feeling to get away is intense. Strange, I’ve never been able to understand this contradiction. It’s a mystery to me, and I’ve come to accept it like that – even been in awe of it at times.
The other day I took our little dog for his daily walk. As I made my way through our neighbourhood, I was suddenly greeted by the lovely aroma of woodsmoke. Some past residue of my Southern Hemisphere mindset found this rather mystifying – what does Christmas have in common with woodsmoke? Then, in a flash – but I’m in the cold English countryside and not only are the homes I’m passing filled with Christmas decoration, but also with, in some cases, burning fires in the lounges. I heard Forrest Gump gently whisper into my ear, “Christmas and woodsmoke, they ‘is’ like peas and carrots.”
We were hiking along the River Darent in Kent, between Horton Kirby and Farningham, when we came across this field beautifully carpeted with Buttercups, Dandelions, Daisies and a few spots of Red Campion. We just had to stop, have lunch and ponder this captivating little scene.
My wish is to stay always like this, living quietly in a corner of nature.
I took a walk through the woods today and saw the sheer beauty of carpets and carpets of bluebells. The woods were dark, but dabbled with sunlight and mystery. I had the distinct feeling of not being alone. The woods have that affect on me. When I’m in them I always feel I’m surrounded by presence. I have no language to articulate it. It’s not an ominous thing, just a mysterious and beautiful presence.