A Winter’s day ends in skeletal celebration. The sounds of birdsong echoing here and there are finally stilled by small heads folded beneath protective wings, as light succumbs to creeping darkness.
The fields of barley around us are being harvested. I love watching the harvesters. There’s a sanctity to their work. It was fields like these that inspired Sting’s beautiful song, “Fields of Gold.”
Yesterday, I was standing in our backyard watching the sun going down, when suddenly in the stillness, two birds started calling out to each other. The rolls and chirps and melodious song were beautiful. They echoed under the red and expansive sky. Communication was going on, something beyond my comprehension, yet recognisable to a part of me that in itself is a mystery. A thin veil had been lifted and I was staring into a reality, both mystical and ethereal.
I put the leash on my little dog, Broddah, donned my jacket and cap and walked out into the crisp Spring air. The morning was bright, the sky blue and I could feel the spring in my step.
As I walked along the path with Bluebell hill before me, I could hear the birdsong coming from the trees – beautiful! Strange how the chirping and singing of birds has a kind of echoing sound in the countryside. I’ve never been able to understand this, but I love the sound. Like sunlight on water is to my eyes, so is birdsong to my ears. I also watched a grey stallion in the paddock to my left celebrating the morning by galloping around and proudly shaking his head and arching his neck, then, throwing himself onto his back and rolling around with glee. It was something to see.
I eventually got home and crowned it all with a cup of tea and two Rich Tea biscuits. Nothing like an early morning walk to start your day, especially with a little friend who enjoys it even more than you.