A Lovely Outdoor Seat
From this little rocky eminence, it’s been possible to sit - initially in hat, coat and gloves; more recently in tshirt and sun hat – and look across the valley, watching the season change from early spring to almost full blown summer. Such irony that this driest and most glorious of spring times has coincided with a pandemic, when we are supposed to be largely confined within our houses or gardens (if we’re lucky enough to have one). I’m very conscious of how fortunate I am to have both a garden and easy access to this beautiful vantage point. It’s my refuge from the news that darkens every day.
If nature is our healer, then sitting here surrounded by rocks and moss and trees, is the best medicine I know. Each week has brought new developments: the arrival of the bluebells, and the first croziers of new bracken pushing up through the dessicated stalks of last years growth. The trees, largely bare when lockdown first began, soon started to break into leaf, a slight haze of green about their branches. Now they are fully covered, dense and luxurious, but still lush with the fresh vivid freshness of early summer. Roe deer, emboldened by the lack of human activity, have stripped the bark from a young rowan, dark underwood gaping through the silvery skin. The lovely mosses and lichens that cushion my perch have been slowly drying out; and the spongy bog I traverse to reach the seat doesn’t even wet my boots any more. The sun has been an almost permanent feature of the time I’ve spent here.
Early in the morning, the sound of birdsong and the distant honking of geese is all that can be heard. The usual drone of traffic is almost completely absent. A wonderful, almost tangible peace hangs over the valley. I think to myself, “This is what it must have been like in the days of William and Dorothy. No wonder they loved it so much here.” Sinking back into the mossy cushion of my outdoor seat, I wonder if we’ll ever experience such tranquillity in this valley again in our lifetime.