This morning started quietly. I took a bit of time simply watching and listening to the sights and sounds in the back garden. The sunshine was blasting the lawn and quivering branches with luke warm light. It’s a hollow light compared to that of the spring or summer, but it is very welcome nonetheless. What it lacks in warmth, it more than makes up for in colour, intensifying the reds and oranges and greens of the plants.
The breeze, pretty strong in bursts today, was spinning loose leaves hanging precariously on to their branches. Providing a backing track of white-noise to the tip-tap of the birds’ beaks on the wire feeders. Simple pleasures. A few minutes of calm and awareness.
We then went for a walk with the dog. We ventured over the main road which splits our little patch in two. I used to live in London where there has always been a ‘north and south of the river’ thing. I see a similar thing up here with the A137 Harwich Road which cuts through from east to west. Picturesque Dedham, Flatford, Stratford St Mary and Manningtree to the north. Agricultural Ardleigh, the Bromley’s and Frating to the South. The road cuts straight through Ardleigh, splitting it in two.
We parked pretty much on the main road and walked part of the Essex Way with bridle ways and other footpaths at each end. It was so nice to look at something different. We are so fortunate to still be able to do our walks. A kestrel drifted over-top being carried by the breeze and perched on top of a silhouette of a tree. It was the cherry on top of the cup cake.
The ghost stories are playing with me a little each day. I am listening to a podcast that takes a more historical, cultural and factual perspective of them. We clearly hold on to them for a number of reasons; to keep alive our memories of the dead, to right historical wrongs, to ward off or to bring too. I am aware of who may have been before us and what life stories could be told, adding new layers of history to a place. Just as our stories play out in the here and now, laying a new story layer on top. It would be good to invent a ghost story for near here. One that people could talk about and share with generations.
The Bald Birder 