short stories
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DECEMBER -Winter’s Grim
The heavy rainfall in November had silvered every twig and branch with heavy raindrops, that slide gently, merging into depths and flooding the land. The water lay in vast catchments over long periods as the ground was already turgid enticing many gulls inland. Like technicolour snowflakes, the autumn leaves had fallen silently without the merest whisper of a sound, a palette of many colours now lying dormant that will decay and become vital nourishment, given freely without delay.
Once upon a Dream
In the windless noon, the flaunt of the sunshine on this sultry day and the cirrus clouds above help to absorb the moment’s meaning. As I observe the sights and soundscapes, I gaze across the daisied meadow watching the motionless eye-winking cattle basking in the sun.
All things bright and Beautiful
A robin sang low and sweet, then a moment of magic greeted me, a more melliferous sound, a lark suddenly rises just in front of me and stops me in my tracks. I watch him ascend until I can see him no more. I can also hear the bravura of the bustling growing crops and watch a lonely swallow scooting obliquely high and low scything over the tender bowed locks of barley.
The Life of the Little Brook
After days of heavy rain the little brook had become dimmed and occluded by a great muddy morass. But now the muffled wind with its waft brought the sound of a slow trickle, having found a heavy boulder it made its first song.
By the Riverside
Here where reeds and waterlilies flourish is a place where herons and kingfishers dwell. In the morning the rain had fallen and hung the leaves with tears, but now the sun is shining bright and as it hits the heavy raindrops they shine like crystals.
Let The Moments Linger
A youthful looking man with a look of intelligence and sensibility approaches me, “Why bother” he bristles, “Why tell your stories, no-one will listen? This is what you should be talking about, this is what people want”. He thrust his phone into my vision with images of space and science fiction; “This is the future” he said. This came as a thunderbolt to me and I listen intensely to what he has to say.
The Nature of Flight
Being fully awake and with the soft magic of the half-light dissolved like mist, I stare in slack mouthed silence as squirrels hurriedly ripple across my path, their spines undulating like waves along a skipping rope. They have become startled by the rooks alighting in the great oak tree. Rooks have a more discerning scent and lead a flock of starlings to an area rich in food. They have a more delicate feel in their beaks enabling them to detect food from a greater distance so have formed a beneficial relationship with the starlings, the rooks also acting as a ‘look out’ for predators on open ground which can be readily observed.
Blue’s Countryside Adventures
As Blue and I enter a narrow country lane where finger posts and forgotten milestones are half hidden amongst the wild grasses and where dandelions are blowing abound with seed, Blue relishes the incomparable pleasure of discovery. As I look up at the watery sky I watch the blue arrows team of swallows swerving and swooping picking off insects as they go. I can hear in the distance the sound of ‘Great Tom’ the famous church bell of St. Thomas and The Holy Rood, what a wonderful sound he makes with a head, shoulder, a waist, a lip and a mouth but also a wonderful voice.
The Edge Lands of our Waterways
I awake early as the day dawns and the morning bright. Woven between dew laden brambles sparkling in the sun was the hoariest grey and white of the spider’s web telling me the promise of a lovely day. They are nature’s weather forecasters, for if she sits in the centre of her web with her eyes downcast, the day will be clear and bright.
An Oasis of Calm
In the heart of every winter is a quivering spring and with the rain now shrunk to a drizzle, the limpid grey clouds are brighter and clearer for my sake.
galleries and umtitumps
In the early summer, when the hedgerows are white with May (the blossom of the hawthorn), the scent of which is heavy upon the breeze, and the birds singing lustily above, the spirit of the times is felt even underground by the mole—the blind miner whose senses are so keen it triggers him to start breeding in earnest.
the melodious warbling of the skylark
If you have ever stopped to listen to a Lark singing in a clear blue sky and have wondered how a tiny fluttering spec can climb so high on tender wings and yet sing more blissfully than any other, you may be sure that he is showing off before his lady and is using both the powers of his voice and a display of his flying to win her regard and accept his devotion.
the wonderful woodland floor
Losing the greenbelt and the mature woodland goes far deeper than just the fields and the trees, it’s what they support, the things we don’t see, the things we can’t see or even consider or indeed understand their importance.
little boy blue
On many of our adventures whether on pathless woods or where the waves break on a low sandy shore, Blue and I would settle a while. Blue is my trusty Blue Roan Cocker Spaniel. He would sit on his haunches with a morose appearance watching his master. A watchful sleepy eye would appear and analyse the footsteps, creaks and sounds around him. Blue stood slack but ready, his smooth narrow head flickered as he shifted his gaze, his growls grew more menacing, his eyes becoming fixed in their stare.
robin’s betrothal
Our beautiful robins become engaged in January and marry at the end of March. The male presents her with a courtship present, a tiny grub, a love gift to prove his feelings for her. If she accepts his gift the days of engagement are over and the serious work of married life begins.