The lanes I walk have no pavements, so I cross and re-cross the road, trying to keep clear of oncoming traffic. The few vehicles I encounter always give me a wide berth, and there’s nearly always a cheery wave from the driver and passengers.
This particular morning it was dry and cloudy, but everywhere I went there were daffodils in abundance, which could not fail to brighten my spirits. I passed a field of damp stubble which did look very melancholy, till I spotted a couple of clumps of old fashioned large-trumpeted daffodils shimmering down by the perimeter fence, and somehow these gave me more pleasure than all the others growing in beautifully tended front gardens. Just like life, I suppose, we need to experience the bad before we can really appreciate the good.
Someone has planted a sprinkling of daffodils in the grass alongside the old Victorian letter box set in an old stone wall. In the summer red poppies spiced up the roadside there, colour co-ordinating with the cheerful red paint.
Iwas surprised at how much was in bloom so soon after such a bad winter. Mauvey-purple aubretia festooned low stone garden walls, delicious buttery masses of primroses nestled under old bare trees, some tulips were just beginning to reveal their pinkness in a couple of garden tubs, and tiny tete-a-tete daffodils were everywhere – especially effective planted between clumps of low-growing purple heathers.
The hills which rise steeply behind the little groups of cottages along the way, and slope upwards beyond the fields on one side of the lane, took on a very contemplative appearance that morning. A few days earlier, when I had trodden the same path delivering the Agendas, the sun had been shining, and the hillsides were a patchwork of light and shade, ever changing.
But where were the six Jacob’s sheep which I always stop to admire? One time when I was passing, their owners were busy cutting their ‘toenails’, so I stopped for a chat and learnt that these beautiful creatures are kept as pets, and are sometimes taken back to their home to be petted and enjoyed by the family. These six all have names, and have scrumptious brown and white fleeces, with lovely gentle faces topped off by the most artistic curly horns. In winter when they come to watch me pass by, I have wanted to take one back home with me so that I could lie in front of the fire, nestling my head in its soft warm coat.
As I neared my home once more, a little car sped past carrying the logo of a Personal Fitness Trainer, no doubt having left some early morning exercise enthusiast to a much-needed shower and diet-breakfast. Back to civilisation again ......
The hills which rise steeply behind the little groups of cottages along the way, and slope upwards beyond the fields on one side of the lane, took on a very contemplative appearance that morning. A few days earlier, when I had trodden the same path delivering the Agendas, the sun had been shining, and the hillsides were a patchwork of light and shade, ever changing.
But where were the six Jacob’s sheep which I always stop to admire? One time when I was passing, their owners were busy cutting their ‘toenails’, so I stopped for a chat and learnt that these beautiful creatures are kept as pets, and are sometimes taken back to their home to be petted and enjoyed by the family. These six all have names, and have scrumptious brown and white fleeces, with lovely gentle faces topped off by the most artistic curly horns. In winter when they come to watch me pass by, I have wanted to take one back home with me so that I could lie in front of the fire, nestling my head in its soft warm coat.
As I neared my home once more, a little car sped past carrying the logo of a Personal Fitness Trainer, no doubt having left some early morning exercise enthusiast to a much-needed shower and diet-breakfast. Back to civilisation again ......
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