Minor moments of liberty (with a raspberry and apricot jam)
A summer’s walk in woods I know well. With nothing to guide me but the sun and my nose. An afternoon spent following paths I know and some newly discovered.
Blame it on the cat who nearly made me miss my train (but don’t blame her too hard; she’s sick at the moment). I ran out of the house in a flurry, said a hurried hello to my old lady neighbours, and only at the station did I realise my backpack might contain a few apricots, purse and a rain jacket, but no phone (so no internet or GPS), no map, no train times, no camera. To not cross-check just where I might be or where I should go. To not see when the train would pass or whether a message had been answered. To not worry about composition, focus and light, but just stop and drink in the way the golden yellow and deep green bands of wheat and trees alternated before they stopped before a clear blue sky. To walk up a path I’d never followed and could only guess where it would lead. Little moments of freedom from habits a little too well engrained. Read more
The sun shone this week and it was warm and it was good. Joyfully good. Spring seems to be peeking its nose around the corner, wondering whether it should get the party rolling or not. With a friend, we ran for the hills and found snow. Lots of it, although it was very wet and sticky. Still, that made the break from hard-graft snowshoeing that much earlier and that much more well-deserved. As we watched the first migratory butterflies flitter by and tried, in vain, to spot a crocus, life was made all the more genial with some lunch.
