Socks

No sight of the sun in the mist on this morning. Day is a spillage of grey light. Mist separates into cloud and rain. I would be almost in Bristol, by now, I calculate, if I could have afforded to take my Second Dan grading. Offset disappointment with a cozy bedside coffee. I’ll just keep training, I think, the money will turn up. Sigh, because my cup is empty.

With reluctance, add a waterproof layer. From the moment I have put on socks, Dog has bustled between me and the door- socks means boots means a walk means happy Dog.

‘Well, if I was in Bristol, I wouldn’t be here with you in the rain, would I?’ 

Dog takes this entirely positively, and we tread out to the wet world.

The coffee was lovely, but not much of a breakfast. Realise I am hungry just as my boots leak. Okay, I say, the hedgerow will give me breakfast. And can I find a single blackberry? Hmm… Okay, I say, I think it goes like this: the universe is made of energy. Energy that flows is energy that works. A grouchy mind does not flow. If I relax, my blackberry breakfast will appear. A stream of rain winds down the hill. Flow. A stem heavy with fruit does appear: every one of them tight and unripe. It is funny. We cross the brow of the hill, and then the hedges get generous. My fingertips are crinkled from picking so much wet fruit. I eat handfuls, not just the blackberries, but honeysuckle and nasturtium flowers and wild strawberries. This morning, I am here, humbled, happy, eating wild strawberries in the rain. Dog wags her tail at me. She always knew it would turn out okay.  

Socks- one of the many cheerful things in life.