Friday, 27 January 2012

Stones 6, 7, 8 of 16

By the end of today I will catch up with the blockage in my river and it will be gone. These three were written while we were 'netless'.

Monday 16 Jan - mindfully looking

A single leaf, probably holly, on the stone seat in the garden. Tiny petals of frost, like the seeds of my variegated honesty lie on one half in perfect, layered geometry. The edge of each frost petal is serrated. They have formed perfectly, as frost and snow will.

Another day - not sure when - mindfully listening

The hiss of the wind in the dry beech leaves. It is a friendly, chatty sound. They twitch and wriggle, then rest when the wind drops for a moment. Does it sounds like water over stones? They will stay there, making their presence felt until the new growth. How generous and what fine colour in the dull winter light.

 The joy of sunset

The sun bleeds into the coming night. Layers of colour stretch across the distant wolds. Mists are  rising in the valley. The bush establishes the foreground. We need that stability in the face of such awe.

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