short stories
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One Moonlit Night
Through a little gate at the bottom of the garden is a buttercup meadow, where a fox I named Finbar often frequented. He was aware of my presence as I felt his stare, but knowing my scent had no fear of me. I watched as he stretched out his length in the sunshine, I could see his long ears and his elliptical eyes. I named him Finbar, for a name makes a difference, be it a person or an animal, don’t deal with them as strangers.
MINDFULNESS – The Artist’s Way
In the cloudless blue coloured sky, I watched a crow and a buzzard rise way up high, they then fought a spiralling duel, with the buzzard making all the noise as they continued to carve the sky. Finally, they disappeared into the silhouetted woods, for the wise old crow knew the buzzard’s menacing intentions and had taken the buzzard away from his nesting site.
MARCH – The Season of Hope
Far away a lonely bell was ringing, and it echoes through my mind, for here I come when fuss and fret seems set to overwhelm. As I stop to listen, I could hear the cries of the herring gulls sailing high above. Suddenly two gulls fall from the sky, the male then begins a long-drawn-out cry raising and lowering his head. His cries are audible above the thrum of the traffic close by, and intrude my thoughts, arresting my attention. He then dances for her with potent perplexing sounds, woven into dense mesmeric spells, which hide inside its complexity and posits the existence of an invisible natural force.
JANUARY – A Winter’s Mantle
There is a huge calm sky above on this January morn, as the low sun bathes the land with golden light, and with just a fret of wind, the rain had delayed its coming. With a diamond wink of the sun, my trusty companion Maverick and I head for the fields and woods once again.
Idle Thoughts
Little Maverick would always greet me with a stretch and a yawn, bound across and sit to attention with his head in the air, waiting eagerly to be patted and told what a good boy he really is, then with demi-pause he rises and runs to the door. With keen anticipation we make our way across the fields to the rhynes and ditches where my ear catches the sound of a male blackcap and I garner the quality of his song. As I caretake in the moment I immerse myself into the landscape. All the while Maverick rests easy watching the moorhens with their ingratitude of chicks, feeding diligently on a smorgasbord of scattered food. Suddenly from the reeds, Stumpy the rat joins the throng. With his three paws down, he wobbles around feasting himself on the tasty delights.
OCTOBER- the season of Acorns, Cobnuts and Conkers
With the autumn sun now at a lower angle in the sky, Maverick and I lead our longer shadows over harvest fields now ploughed and forsaken. The sky began to break like an ice cap, where cracks in the laden clouds widen to crevices of weightless blue. All around the leaves of the hazel amongst the hedgerows took on the golden-green of spring in the beams of the low autumn sun.
AUGUST – The Mute Season
It is now early August, the lanes and the woods are silent, without the pellucid sound of birds singing. Only the yellowhammers in the hedgerows are with song. In the skies above the cries of the buzzards can be heard. This is the time when birds begin their summer moult to replace their suit of feathers ready for the harshness of winter.
JULY-Thunderheads and Lightning
It was now early July, the morning was fine, the sky blue, and the clouds below like fluffy white balls of cotton. The lane was awash with the great willowherb, a splash of pinkish mauve amongst the tall umbellifers. There was an abundance of golden yellow ragwort, this plant being the distain of many, but not for the ephemeral wings of the cinnabar moth who rears her yellow and black striped caterpillars on this tenacious plant.
JUNE-Flaming June
It is now early June, and the sky was full of gold, painting the little lane with summer magic. The air was alive and humming with bees collecting sweetness from the daisied fields. I love the luxuriant profusion and mad scatter of our wonderful wildflowers, and the vast array of male hoverflies carousing around them.
MAY-The Glistening Maytime
It was a fine soft day in spring and with the cloud-castled sky above it absorbed the moments’ meaning. I love the way nature responds to the seasons, weather and maturity, it delights me, it’s a work of art. Here is a place to find treasures to enlarge the mind by contemplation, for there is no wi-fi here, but I can promise that you’ll find a better connection, with memories that will never fade.
Every Footstep
I began my journey following a little path which took me to an old churchyard. As I opened the old wooden gate my eyes beheld the most verdant green hedgerows bursting with wildflowers, a rush of fresh country air laced with the aroma of the evening primrose saluted my nose. This place was beyond compare.
Duelling Hares
The beautiful Brown Hare, Lepus Europaeus is a gentle, shy, quiet and solitary creature by nature, spending all its life on open ground. Hares can be found on agricultural land, around the edges of woodlands and prefer a ‘hilly’ terrain enabling them to escape uphill quickly away from danger. You will often see hares in the company of a cock pheasant, an extra pair of eyes alerting the hare of any potential predators. However, some have moved closer to towns and villages and have made their homes in local churchyards and cemeteries, where a vast array of grasses, wildflowers, mosses and lichens grow in abundance.
Only Patches
There have probably been some difficult patches in all our lives, times when someone we know and respect have spoken harshly and thought less of us, leaving us feeling demised. I too have experienced this recently when a man approached me with his patronising smile and as cold as an ocean shell. Shooting from his lip he mocks my condition; his tongue is impressively matter of fact and I am shocked at the brevity of his remarks.
In Drowsy Wakefulness
As I arrive at this special place I reflect back to when the magic of nature breathed heavy on my mind, when it first felt the fall of my feet and where daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight.
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.
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.
in the shadowed wilds
In the shadowed wilds of mature deciduous woodland where the trees are throttled by the ivy, the wood anemones now steal the show, cloaking the ground and blooming like a galaxy of stars. The random clumps of snow piercers (snowdrops) their white beauty now faded have provided a much needed food supply for the early bees.