The rookery was busy when H and I walked down the lane in the late afternoon with the dogs by our side. I loved the sound of the crows in the tall trees by the desolate house bereft of even memories and life and all that happened there years ago now. I remember when the last remaining person existed in this place. He ambled around like a gentle giant, stopping at the rusty gate when we passed by, when the boys were in strollers and clad in osh kosh overalls. He always had a kind word for the boys. He always spun his huge hands over their blonde heads as if to bless them and protect them. I feel sad today passing this place. The crows own it now. They caw and cry out and shout indecencies at us as we pass by. Two middle-aged people with dogs, sliding down the muddy path, glancing at the sky for a patch of blue. Some hint of a promise.
And we move on as gently as we possibly can. We attempt to ignore the fast demise of this country. We attempt to dig deep into ourselves to survive. To find some semblance of why we moved here in the first place. It is not easy. It is trying. It causes stress.It causes worry. We or I look for nature to guide me. I make the marmalade. I gather the eggs from the hens. Three one day, four another, two another, if we are lucky. I look to the sky for the beauty. I turn off the radio. The negative news needs to be dismissed. Otherwise it would be difficult to get out of bed.Something, there must be something to be celebrated.
Small gifts come. A hand to hold. A dog wagging its tail. Sunlight warm on my back that comes through the dining room window. Cookies cooling on a tray. A kiss. A simple brush of another body close to mine. Opening up a book to a favourite passage. Reciting it aloud. Lighting a candle. A turning of the soil. Discovering a new piece of oneself. Something dormant. Like a lifting of a page. All of a sudden you see it, a new part of you, discovered by chance and all of a sudden you can be thrilled to discover that your life is still not dead, not immune to new things and you beam with delight as another day brings about something you never even thought possible. And all the other stuff takes a back seat, forgotten about, like old grass in a new meadow.