Early morning walks with my camera are back in my routine. That is to say that I have done it once this summer. Being as it is only the second day of summer this unique outing still rejoices in the title of “routine” which is hard to contradict…..until tomorrow. The light on the morning in question was soft and clear. Summer seemed to have arrived, save for the frisson of chill that loitered in the shade keeping overt optimism at bay, whilst the warmth from the early sun had awoken every perambulating alarm clock whose job it is to discredit the concept of the “peaceful countryside”……whilst laying eggs.
The hand that penned “Old MacDonald had a farm..” must surely have been guided by a head that was out and about on such a morning. It was with a “moo moo here, and a cluck cluck there” that I meandered along a winding path bordered by hedgerows stuffed to overflowing with fresh wild flowers. The sublimely elegant disorder of nature is soul subduing in its complexity. Looking intensely at tiny pockets of this natural tour de force is one of few times that I get an inkling of what infinity may be.
Each turn of this lane, that encircles the small piece of land in which we now live, reveals something new and fresh to me although I have passed that same spot so many times before. It may be that I pass the spot without seeing or, more credibly, am foolish enough not to invest more of the time apportioned to me in looking in the hope of seeing.