short stories
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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.
APRIL—Looking for Beauty
As winter drifted into spring, the colds’ great bearhug that had embraced all had now released her grip and forsaken us. The bird songs are melodious and multitudinous in the burgeoning dawn of a glorious new day. As I ambled through soft green pastures where cleft-born wildflowers were soaking up the heat from the sun, a timorous hare leapt forth to feed on a rich supply of variable grasses.
Purple Rain
As I slumber in a mantle that covers all human thoughts, I am awakened by the rain. Sweeping across the fields outside my window it lashes the panes leaving artistic rivulets of water obscuring my view. But the wind soon lost its strength and began to blow more leisurely. I like watching places wake up, the changing light, the mood of the sky and the freshness of the new morning. I love to listen to the song thrush that sings its song twice, but sadly not this morning.
Moon Shadow
When the night pulls her gentle curtain across the sky the clouds then begin to let my minds running script be like the clouds themselves.
Clouds excite me, stir my blood and make my thoughts flow. I fear science would steal away my imagination. Although dusk is a mesmerising time of day, when the sun sets, the light dims and shadows begin to fall. They become inter-twined with light,
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. The feeling I have is calm and uplifting. It took me back to something I may have lost a long time ago and had forgotten.
By the Streamside
As I walk the hills and follow a little path that recedes to the point where two paths blur and join, I hear the sound of a man’s voice. His voice is urgent as he calls his dog but yet he is trying not to be seen. He has white bushy eyebrows which give him a severe owlish gaze.
The Language of Trees
The transfixing power of the language of the trees is immense. Trees are very sociable and care for and support one another. They hide many wonders that we are only just beginning to understand, they experience pain and have memories too.
Blackbird has spoken
There is little doubt that the ability of the blackbird to exploit a wide variety of food sources and then suddenly switch back from one to another is the main contributory factor enabling them to maintain a dense population in a richly diverse area. Among European blackbirds their closest relative is the ring ouzel, one that breeds in mountainous regions.
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.
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.