A firm chill and rooftop crystal white frost this campervan morning. The sky is devoid of cloud, the passing of landing lights criss crossing above me. A real nip on the fingers and face. Stillness means the weekend’s motorway busyness seeps into every thought and sound. The coffee, thick steam rising, brings a welcome warmth. In fact the cold is welcome too, a real sign of seasonal change. First on windscreen and glass, I think it’s the first one of the year, but I could be wrong. As the post Stewart Stafford once wrote of early winter mornings ;
“ Lord Yule laid down his beard of snow and cloak of frost and ice to illuminate the gloom. “
And illuminate it does. The early signs of a pink sun, the light changing colour from a cold blue to a dusky pink as I sit, picking out the sugar coated rooftops and crystal patterned glass. A welcome cleansing cold. The crows are busy, a few of them scattered around the oak and ash, the occasional call and response on the air. Morning gulls circling in the air calling as they fly.
As well as meandering my way through Jo Hari’s book ‘Stolen Focus’, I have been reading ‘Songlines” by Bruce Chatwin. His travels across the outback of Australia, his encounters with the indigenous populations as he explored the ‘invisible pathways’ along which the Aborigines “Passed their culture, history, connection to the land and its mythical nature “ through music and song. I came across a quote in which Chatwin wrote ;
“ Life is a bridge. Cross over it, but build no house on it."
A sense of the continued forward motion of life, to keep crossing bridges so to speak, keep growing, exploring, challenging and experiencing. Not to pause. I have also been contemplating the equivalent in the UK of songlines and what from they had taken and where they might lie. A busy morning this morning. Lovely days people.
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