turning .

How I miss my once regular visits to this old railway line, it was the weekly visits that allowed me to watch things slowly change, I felt in tune with things here and that they were in turn in balance.

Now I am away for weeks and i come back and already the odd splash of early colour seems to exclaim and emphasis the loss I feel. Its like when I hear a choir on radio or tv or see people passing my door on their way to Dingwall Choral , I sang with them for about 15 years, I miss this too for these two different pastimes where my souls salve, like the sea, like the wind.

I found the fallen feather just past the kissing gates, it looks as if it is floating on a very still pool ,it is not. My intellect tells me it is not a message, it is not from someone saying "I have not forgotten you, look I have sent you this white weather" There are no white birds here on this track, I look around for evidence of  a clash of birds, or bird and fox, there is none. So I will take my message as this day is important, a birthday for someone no longer living, no longer living except in this heart and others.

As I get older I think more of shadows, there was a beautiful shimmering shadow on our wall, except that a shadow cant shimmer or glitter but the movement was of shimmering leaves. Is it real I asked a soon to be four year old. "yes" she said.

I think about shadows and wonder if they are real. At this time of year when we  are told the veil between realms is supposed to be thinner, I think of shadows. I was taken by this leaf so pretty in its decay, almost heart shaped but not. At this time of year I think of shadows and of the found fallen gift.

till next time.

autumn is on us.

It is so long since I have been here, the track is still lush green and with that warm vegetation smell, nothing much is turning brown or golden yet, not here at least but today  the wind is brought golden leaves leaves down. I returned the track today and noticed that yellows were appearing and shone out even in the grey light. The birch leaves are just beginning to turn. below the old railway bridge that my grandchild likes to shout her name under to hear the echo,its hard to believe that huge steam engines used to thunder aove her head.

the photo above is just to show the wonderful texture of some of  the trees that appear very old but in fact from their position that they can be no older that 57 years, the old railway line closed in 1954, the year i was born,there are still signs of the old line though...

tick tock the old clock ticks to golden bit by bit and very soon.

The Speed of birds, the noise of the machines.

First trip back to the track and my den for weeks. Sunday was sunny and I resisted the temptation to have coffee in the Greenhouse, a community shop, or trek over and see what the old place was like. I so often feel the track has an awareness and welcomes me back today it was easy to have the delusion as when i arrived the sun came out and as i passed the kissing gates the bird song was loud and varied. Then the drone of lawnmowers kicked in everyone and his father seemed to be out shearing their lawns. The sound drowned out the little birds song  but they were still there fast and fleeting oft times I could only just catch their shadows on the bare bark of oak and cherry and pine. The birds are so fleeting that  often by the time you have registered thre movement of air and flick of feather they have disappeared. This Sunday a little bird flew down to the path and preceding me ,hopped along the path,seemingly waiting for me to catch up then hopping ahead again eventually when i got to the entrance to my den off it flew. Those of you that have read The Celestine Prophecy will know that one is encouraged not to ignore the animal or bird that seems to accompany new on your way bt to help it to heighten your awareness, your intuition, your perception.

As the drone of the noise of the machines faded , I was reminded of a Life Story by David Attenbourgh that morning on Radio 4, he was telling us of The  Giant Bee, south America I think, this is he worlds largest Bee it builds its hive so that it hangs over cliffs edges, it suspends it from the cliff faces and defends the honey with penetrating and painful vigour. This train of though then took me to the times I have been stung on the track and to the time I had to give emergency Reiki to a dog that had been stung an was in shock.

The first time I was stung I sat in a beautiful spot far  and from any houses or help..alas I did not know that bees nest underground and so do hornets, Ellis the dog and I were stung several times, painful as it was I felt guilty at upsetting the natural order of things. The second time I was sitting on the ground in my den and was idly scraping the leaf mould with a stuck, out from the from under the leaves came bee after bee and my they stung. Now I watch the woodland bees going in and out of their underground nest and stay well clear. I wonder what we walk upon in forests that we never see, the Buddhist way of walking mindfully seems potent.
The dog that got stuck needed water which i had  and reiki he rallied and went off home, I was glad i was in the right place at the right time.

I sat on my little folded chair on my own watched and listened to the sea, watched the shadow of birds, smelt the wild garlic and spoke to no one, the sky darkens, the wind comes soft at first from left to right starting like a shushing through the canopy, i hear it getting near feeling nothing its the trees that get it and then its overhead and then off to my right it was like a tide of wind I strained to hear it as it disappeared toward the far end of the wood. I get the call and its time to go back to the machines and away from the speeding birds.
Till next time.

all photographs were taken this Sunday.

hearts delight and everything just waiting...

So long since I have been to the old track and my den there, I have missed it so. For personal reasons, due to health and circumtances I just dont go as much as I used to but on Sunday last I finally made it. I just had to feel the new energy, hoping always to glean some.

How many times i have been along this track in the last 16 years, I thought I knew every last inch of it and all that flourishes, blooms, dies and is born again there year after year but I had never noticed this wound on this tree before. I see a heart, you may not but I saw a heart and I felt it was a gift from a loved place , I never seen it before for I did not need it before....on sunday I needed some heart and this old worn down path gave me just that.

The Track  has not got its canopy just yet but the stark bare place of only a month ago is greening up, the sun just bounces of the ivy, the meaning of ivy in the meaning of plants book is fidelity, affection and married love, how lovely for something that can poison or strangle its host, some of the Ivy vines are inches thick and wind way up tot he tree tops.

I have mentioned before I think that this track was an old railway line until 1954 , the sleepers are gone and only the leaves sleep and the bees and the wild flowers until spring but there are still signs of the old days and there are the Railway fence posts, this year I am going to gild the round part in 23ct gold leaf, few will see but those that do will look and wonder, I hope. If while they ponder, they hear the brilliant and varied bird song, the sea across gravel, the rustle of the little vole, then they will know why " when i am dead i shall return for every day i did not spend by the sea" a lovely poem from Neil Astleys Being Human.

See , I told you everything just waiting, the Honeysuckle above has white flowers   seen on  this blog somewhere from last year the, leaves have just opened, i never stop thinking it all a wonderful miracle even though i know it is not.

this  oak tree has a way to go before it bursts into leaf think of all that energy, just needed a little more sun a little more light, just like me.

As I have not been feeding the birds that visit my den recently, when i got there the feeders were bare and no a single bird to be seen but then one by one they return, I was amazed at just how effective this little souls camouflage was.

so that it is it for now, i reflect that no matter how deep the wounds of sorrows past and present or how tired the feeble body, there are places given to us to heal the soul and this old place is that for me.

Long Time No Sea, no trees.

The track was in the huff, I could feel, I left the house in the sun and when i stepped out through the kissing gates the sun went and the old railway felt angry. I had not been for such a long time, things had kept dying and living and growing older while i was gone and still the old place just kept on turning.

I watch them and they watch me.

The old railway sleepers are gone but the birch and alder and wild cherry, their trunks make for ghostly sleepers. It must have been one of the most beautiful little railway journeys in Europe , crossing the Black Isle, past the farms then with the Sea on one side of it and forest on the other, what a welcome sight it would have been for all those coming back from war, the steam billowing as the train passed Larches Leap. Home, home from  hellish battle, home if a farmer from market, home, it felt like a kind of homecoming for me today. The old fench post above i have passed hundres of times but today I noticed that, it too has a beauty to it.



the birds returned to my feeders I was amazed they noticed so soon that I was there and though, they were slightly more wary than before bth Robin and Tit fed while i sat feeling the sun on my face, there was much bird song, the collared doves and wood pigeons ,the woodpecker hammering.

I have missed this place and its graces. Soon all with be leaf above me, leaf and light and warmth.

winter and the path chosen

The kissing gates frozen and cold but inviting still the same.

 the path not yet trodden, the snow will make a secret of our passing soon enough, nature  reclaims

Boughs unbroken catch the whispered word, snow like fog makes softer our words and softer still our footfall

as we walk on to the light at the end of the trodden way and to mullied wine and fires and candles bright in the window 

we have turned and headed home as we always must but
not forgeting the friends we passed on the way, or the beauty of the day, the birds, the survivors
the blessings and the light.

Golden Forests and Golden Goodbyes.

Golden forests and the road home

Even old coal sheds can be gorgeous in autumn light

Old pines and one last birch gleaming

This Sundays walk was filled with light all golden and copper and stunning even though there was little sun. I walked while my emotions churned from awe at the beauty ot it all, my tears flowing from the sure knowledge that my father, who passed away last week, gave me all the appreciation of the wild outdoors I have now. When I was a small child in a pushchair he would point out everything on walks around ponds and along old railway lines. I learnt from him how precious this earth is and all it contains. I guess my dad will walk within me on all my future walks and one day when the tears are gone I shall remember him singing as we walked along and be glad of him.