In Thrall




This morning's suspicion: that the weather is hungover. The sky is a sludge, very much as though head-aching weather has smeared cloud around, thought 'that will do,' and gone back to bed. A definite air of not being finished, under which I decide to stroll, maybe towards the river, maybe not, because it is that sort of a day. And while strolling with vague intent, I spy a path, an old path to the top of the steep woods. Dog and I vanish in an oesophageal gap.
Dog's eyes shine, borderline demonic, she is on some canine bacchanalia, dancing crazy through the ground cover. I am stomping bramble-gates, sinking in pine needle pile-ups, unhooking from crafty roots. There are openings into the ground, set in the hill, that seem to slide under bedrock, just wide enough to drag a person through. No one knows where I am; this thought comes as a lovely shock. I could disappear. I could live here. It would be simple, in the sense of a matter of keeping oneself alive. That's the loveliness of it. 


Comments

  1. klahanie24 October 2012 at 00:36

    Ah, and through the gentle, innocent eyes of this dog, the wonder of a hideaway brings me a sense of peace.
    Thank you for this.

    In peace and pawsitivity, Penny the Jack Russell dog :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Suze24 October 2012 at 03:59

    I'd miss you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lisa Southard24 October 2012 at 09:30

    Gary and Penny! We once had a legendary Jack Russell named Penny. She would dive after seals- barely a glimmer of an idea of limitations in that dog!!
    Suze- I would visit! Looking forward to my next woodland ramble but coming home to the Rayburn and the glorious smell of coffee soon redomesticated me :-)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Suze24 October 2012 at 22:38

    :)

    It's funny to imagine anything redomesticating you. But I can certainly see coffee -- even the very scent of it brewing -- doing the trick. Ambrosia ...

    ReplyDelete
  5. Lisa Southard24 October 2012 at 23:28

    This is only my version of domestic, which pretty much amounts to making things smell like coffee whilst vaguely living in a house :-)

    ReplyDelete

Post a comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Corona Creep Up

Image
Words From The Start Of Lockdown Life Mr looks to the future, it looks like hedges. Saturday March 14th 2020 On the drive to work I got bored of changing the windscreen wiper settings, then a little off-white spider raced around on the steering wheel. I blew it onto the dashboard but it jumped back. Cheeky spider. At work we are bored of coronavirus restrictions and bored at the prospect of it continuing. We don’t know anyone who has it. Supermarket shelves are missing toilet roll, dried pasta, as previously, now also tins of beans and tomatoes. There are travel bans and cancelled events. Last night I had to teach a non contact TKD session - no pads, no sparring, no hand shaking. I began my class with ‘first of all, please don’t breathe because that’s dangerous now.’ All of us are ‘meh’ about these restrictions. We understand that infection control is serious for the immune-compromised, we adhere to protocol for that reason. But the paranoia and boredom: meh. Monday March
Read more

Fun And Thievery

Image
All day marvellous words pour through my head to describe the sounds, sights, and scents of nature. This morning a light frost was laid out for our delectation, harming no flowers, stilting no birdsong. I have energy to get gardening, to plan, to write the novel, but daily life is scarcely reported upon in spite of how it describes itself to me. We are tentatively out of lockdown, allowed to meet outside in socially distanced groups of up to 6. We are allowed to teach outdoors, numbers limited by space, keeping a 2 metre gap between students (unless they are a family bubble). At home we have the gazebo set up with a picnic bench to host outdoor socialising. Internally we are weary, we are tattered lace on spindly side tables. Every little bit of rest like this morning’s coffee in bed is held onto as though I am stockpiling loveliness in order to survive. I am writing this to help ease that mentality. I would like to adjust out of isolation, I would like to be a light frost thawing
Read more

Tides Of March

Image
Monday 1st March 2021, a work day. Lunchtime. I went for a stroll. Seabreeze was calling. Roamed up and down hill past many crowds of daffodils to get to Porthpean, paddled in the waves (breeze lively, onshore). There was warmth cycling through the cool in the air and water. Sound of waves and gulls. Soft sand. Simple, sensational pleasures. On the slower walk back I put hedge herbs in my coat pocket, took them back to flavour my lunch. On this evening's return commute an orange oversized moon lay over the moors, lopsided and egg-like, more reptilian than bird. I surmised a dragon within. Wednesday 3rd March 2021, an at home day. Shaking off a sense of dread. I think it is the general mess of the world; lots of specifics but not any one in particular. Yesterday was restful; a walk, some reading, a firepit evening complete with blaze of shooting star. Stopped to chat, on our walk, which is how we discovered that there was once an albino badger living in the woods. Thinking of this
Read more