A touch of frost this campervan morning. It clings to plant, roof and eave. A chill in the air and the roar of the Friday morning commute. The sky is once more a heavy solid white mass. No breeze so everything hangs still. A lone Magpie sits high in the Oak and a Robin dances around hedge and bush. As I survey my temporary suburban landscape, modernity has cast its aural net this morning and obliterates most sounds. My usual Starling companions sweep into the top of the Ash and chatter away, it appears to be their regular stop off at this time of day. A blackbird rakes through the remnants of autumnal leaves yet to be collected. I do like crisp, frosty mornings. Despite the overpowering noise there is something to be said for taking the time out and watch the morning unfold. Reflecting on a conversation with a dear friend yesterday who is working with Ukrainian refugees, one of whom whose 20 year old son is fighting in the war in Ukraine. I have a 20 year old son and the thought of him fighting weighs heavily on me this morning. The thought of any 20 year old fighting weighs heavy, so my thoughts are a wee bit clouded. A brief glimpse into the reality of what is going on around us. A busy few days of drumming coming up, which will allow myself to become centred again. Lovely days people.
“ Humankind cannot bear very much reality.” T. S. Eliot.
Comments