Friday 18 September
Morning. This blog is a real weather vane for how I am feeling. The past few days I have been increasingly tired and world weary. I am not a worrier, but recently I have worried about worldly things, local things and people I care about. The virus, the natural world, the general fragility of everything.
This is born out in what I have written and how I have written it. That’s a good thing I guess. It’s often said how healthy it can be to share your feelings, get it down on paper. “Write down your worries then throw them away” was some cathartic advice offered to me in my teens. Well, I can’t throw this away but reading back on previous day’s, both positive and negative, has been insightful. I am sure, on darker days, I will use the early posts to lift my spirits and remind me that nature is cyclical. The spring will return with its bag of colours, energy and life.
‘Mental health and wellbeing’ has become a big topic of recent years, particularly in schools. I feel I now try to diagnose my feelings but, again, that’s a good thing, I guess. A bit like googling about a rash on your neck to see what it might turn into or have been caused by. I am going to avoid scurrying down that rabbit hole. But I am sure it is wholesome and healthy to keep an eye on how you are feeling.
Later. So, all of that what from first thing this morning. Before work. Now it’s the evening and it’s the weekend. It has been a good day, but another tiring one. The news is dominated by the rise in the daily number of confirmed cases of the virus. It’s consistently around 4000 and rising. Doubling about every 10 to 14 days. 1 in 5 people in England are living under some local restrictions.
But. I came home and took Mabel out for a walk. The sun was low in the sky and casting a rich marmalade glow on to the trees and shrubs in the hedgerow. The crows are accumulating in the fields cawing and mingling in increasing numbers. Its oddly comforting. Earlier in the week, I may have seen them as quite threatening, scary. But today I see them for what they are. And on the other side of the lane, a Robin tweets a light and twinkly tune. When in need, those feathered wonders have come along just at the right time. I am feeling a lot better this evening. Thank you, Nature.
The Bald Birder 