Whose woods are these?

Nature is something I am enjoying more and more particularly during these pandemic times.  Thanks to a good friend and a great map reader, I have enjoyed exploring new areas of countryside over the last few weeks. This has resulted in improved fitness, lots of laughter and a greater appreciation of what Mother Nature has to offer.  So, thought I'd write her a little thank-you note. 

Dear Mother Nature

    A loud bang from the harvesting woods stopped us in our tracks yesterday.  Several herd of deer dashed right across our walking path in the early morning sun. They ran fast and frightened to the safety of the opposite wood.  A mighty stag stopped, brayed and led his brood to pastures new. We watched mesmerised from a safe and hidden distance until the mass exodus was complete.  The day's walk had only just begun.

    

    Long before our arrival you had already created a welcoming space, festooned with flowers, hawthorn, blackberry bushes, trees of beech and oak.  Saplings planted side by side, nurtured daily with sunshine and soft rain. Gentle winds whispered quietly encouraging the silent growth of forest ferns. And the sprinkling of early morning frost on fallen boughs added a touch of magic to our early morning walk. Strong branches unwieldy and artistically woven created a welcoming shelter for us and other animals who ramble the earth. 

 

    Your architectural sculpting of the taller trees enhances the dappled light, balancing just the right amount of light and shade.  All co-ordinated beautifully for the seasons and the enjoyment of these walks.  Each walk a magical mystery tour weaving in and out of wooded vales, stopping only to admire the ancient oaks and beechwood and wondering who might have walked this way in bygone days.  Fallen leaves in painted reds, yellows and greens. Listening for the crunch in each footstep taken, noticing the glossiness in the rain soaked leaves. Side-stepping the deeper well-walked mud tracks in the dark brown earth. The feeling of calm and wellbeing in your natural woods affords a soothing balm in these anxious times. 

 

A quiet space, a sacred space, a spiritual space?  Thank you

        

        Gratefully yours,

Máire Rua

Wishing everyone well over the festive season. 

A Game of Patience, 1937, Meredith Frampton 

 When I stopped by to update my blog today I found myself in a dilemma, you know the sort, 'What will I blog about today?'

I considered the options;

• Something from Magpie Tales, the weekly writing prompt from Tess at Willow Manor or 
• Something from 'Our Allotment'. The observant among you will note that it is fast becoming a joint project.  Ownership is not in contention here, we do share the fruits of our labour.

I did wonder if there was a connection between the options and thought long and hard about who or what might connect them and then it came to me in a word - PATIENCE!  Bear with me and all will be revealed.

In life, some things take a little time and patience to unfold, for example, good writing for a play, prose or poetry for a Magpie Tale.  Little seedlings need help, nurturing, sunshine and a little patience too before something wonderful transpires.  I believe Mother Nature does not like to be rushed.  She finds her own pace and rhythm.  It would be unfair of me to expect her to perform instant magic.  She needs time and patience to be creative and bountiful in her giving.   As she weaves her way through our little allotment, slowly unfolding her little offerings in the form of potatoes and courgettes (this week!) we welcome her gifts.  

Sometimes the answer comes in the waiting, the patience, the letting it be ... Incidentally, the potatoes tasted so much better for the wait!

Patient potatoes - photo by me!