A Show of Summer Softness
In a small enclave of a wooded copse is a place so delightful and yet so often goes unnoticed and unsung. Here is a place to see wonders great and small; it is the little puzzles and magical ploys it presents to us, where adventures are to be experienced and secrets discovered where no eyes can follow.
On the outward fringes of the copse is where the nectar rich wild flowers of the cowslip, red valerian and the yellow rattle grow. Amidst the brightly coloured wild flowers is the place to watch the beautiful butterflies looking for an edible place to reside. Here in the honeysuckle bines is where the painted lady with her beguiling compound eyes upstages the flashy peacock and makes the red admiral blush.
As I entered the wooded copse, the birds fussed at me but the sleepy ducks grumble gently on regardless, I stare at the shifting iridescence of the drakes head and the pearls of water on his back, I become captivated as I watch beautiful coloured dragonflies flashing hither and thither like sparks off an anvil as they hunt for their next meal with murderous intent.
In the rise of the bank when the sun was burning bright, the sky a perfect blue and the heavy air hushed and hot, the dandelions shone like molten gold until the first stars gleaned in the waters below. To my surprise lying on a mossy stone was a little posy of wildflowers with a note, a ‘billet-doux’ giving thanks for the many happy moments spent there, but sadly no signature. I wonder if a local artist may have painted this lovely scene, or had it been a quiet resting place for a loved one who is no longer with us, for I believe this special place would adorn the parlours of heaven.
The summer air was a real tonic; the verdant green hedgerows were bursting with wild parsley, lesser knapweed and woodruff which were alive with a vast array of insects. Though they may not be furnished with organs of hearing perhaps they feel the percussions of sound as I carefully pass by but they elude my guesses.
In a nearby meadow where sheep and their gambling lambs frolick, the wagtails play before and behind them devouring the many flies that surround them. In the skies above the skylarks rise and fall perpendicularly as they sing so sweetly. Sadly however, the sound of crickets and grasshoppers is missing from this scene alerting us that something has gone wrong. Their favoured habitat of variable rough grassland has disappeared over the years being replaced by mono-cultural grazing land.
A rare butterfly alights close by on an old sandstone post to sip the moisture from a little well of water but also to attain the necessary minerals it craves before returning to the treetops to feast on honeydew, leaving me spellbound as it glides and floats with exquisite ease. Like happiness a butterfly when pursued is always beyond our grasp. However, if we paused to rest a while the butterfly may come to us.
Perhaps I may be singular in my opinion but it seems I may be guided by the spirit of Mother Nature, for these wonderful images have accompanied me even in the most hostile of situations throughout my life, but yet again the spirit of this green and pleasant place was tranquillity, with the peaceful doves cooing in the midday rest.
As we made our way back home across the fields, the clouds began to clamp the land, squeezing the air between until it oozes mist, which then steals white and silent over the land, but Blue my trusty spaniel stood rigid, the fur on his back was raised, his tail straight, only his nose moved as it worked at the scents brought by the ghostly mist.
Tinged with fear and worry however, nature does have a balance, but when it goes out of kilter there is a danger of not returning to the status quo but I fervently hope that this serendipitous treasure will last forever.
Image courtesy of Ashish Yakri on Unsplash
