A Calm Repose
My first visit to this peaceful place felt like a communion of sound and colour that was to open new creative possibilities. My new senses act like an antenna picking up signals. I began to tune in to the sound of my steps, feel the wind, the sound of the swaying branches. My mind makes space for what is to come. I take a breath or two, lose my eyes and tune into my new surroundings, I feel calm and uplifted.
Maverick’s nose upheld, his head peering the scent of a water vole which is thick and luring, as vivid colours to a child. His nostrils lazily tested the wind. Moments after, a ripple was made by a brown head that sank immediately, but it was observed by Maverick. The underwater cloud was scattered by the swirl of his head out drinking the fresh air. A branch trembled in the breeze and a spiders’ web was broken where a little field mouse flits like a shadow into a hedge nearby.
With views that stretch halfway to forever in all directions, limited only by the power of my eyes, each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy.
As I lay back to dream in this enchanted place, the cracks in the laden clouds widen to crevices of weightless blue. I hear a thousand blended notes as birds sing, glamourous like mill water at wild play.
Breathing with such suppression of the heart my joy delights in this magical moment. I then hear the unmistakable sound of a sculler. The clunk of the catch, the expulsion of breath, with the heat on her brow and an oar in each fist she pauses as she comes up the slide, then the sound of the catch again serene and swan-like. Our eyes meet and we acknowledge each other with a smile. She pauses but for a moment, her accent is lifting like a cork on ripples. It arrested me and made me think of the seasons of my own youth as I too travelled the waterways. A short conversation passes between us, and she reveals her name. “My name is Amelia” she calls out. As the young lady passes by, I glimpse at the after swirls, the two puddles like revolving spectacles, shrinking, weakening and fading into calm as she twirls her oars.
Suddenly a swan came lumbering out of the water like an advancing tide of feather bulk, his Penn came to land, her webbed feet reaching out before she swooshes down elegantly. A wide wave billows as it passes into the reeds and sighs in the now songless day. There are no muddy dogs gambling ahead of their owners and all is quiet as I step aside to let the cows go by, they lift their tails to thrash the air with their soft flail. They pass by tread slow, half with weariness, half with ease which inspires me to take a step and follow.
Where the meadowsweet raises its creamy tassels of blooms and where the water-breaks murmur among the green stones fleeced with moss, a startled heron straightens up his neck, jumps hurriedly out of the water pulling up his long-shanks and sails away.
As the sculler disappears into the distance, the noise fades away and a calmness returns to this wild and endearing place. A deep silence mingled with sweet dreams comes over me and I am transported back to a time in my young life when I found the courage to stand alone, when I needed to belong somewhere that offers hope and which eventually sets me free.
As I stop to listen to my own heart and accept my own nature, I am intoxicated by the magic of my surroundings. As I watch the cloudy evening fall, where the timid night air blows a cool ointment over this special place, I fumble for my notebook. For Mother Nature lulls me into dreams and as I awaken, she guides my heart to my pen and to the pages to which I write.
Peace on the River
A sunny Sunday morning,
Feeling young and free,
Enjoying of the pleasures,
Of sculling on the Dee.
Taking in the scenery,
The nature all around,
Providing a moments’ solitude,
Inner peace Amelia found.
Glancing to the riverbank,
Something she espies.
A gentleman of middle age,
A far away look in his eyes.
She cannot glance away,
For a moment their eyes meet,
A love and understanding,
Of the world around their feet.
An unseen bond between them,
Enjoying the beauty of the day,
Before she puts her oars in,
And silently rows away.
A feeling of contentment,
Deep within Amelia’s soul,
Is suddenly disrupted,
By a tiny water vole.
Poem by Brian Salkeld.
