Change

Does anyone else feel pain when they see healthy trees being cut?

This week my daughter asked me if I shared this sentiment and I was surprised - it's a thought I'd never owned up to so was interested to hear the question from such young lips.

We live in an area full of managed forestry. Up until now we've seen the planting, the growing, the wildlife moving in. We've watched foxes playing in the meadows that divide the regimented trees and families of pheasants wandering across the roads. We've seen stoats slinking along with mice dangling out of their mouths and have followed red squirrels skittering along the road so fast its a wonder their little legs can carry them as indecision floods their minds on whether to keep going or dive into the hedgerow. This week I followed a sparrow hawk as it glided in front of my car, flying less that a foot off the ground for two miles or more, turning with every twist and bend in the narrow lane way. I couldn't decide whether to be in awe of this sharp, intelligent bird of prey or dislike it for the fear and panic if fills the wrens and tits with in my garden as it swoops through.

For years we've felt our lanes tremble as the massive lorries and their trailers laden with freshly cut trunks power along the roads on their way to saw mills. I haven't given them a second thought save concern they might put my little car in the ditch, their size and power dwarfing everything in their way. Recently however, the logging has begun in forestry that lines the roads we travel along daily.

For years the lanes have been shaded by evergreen pine trees and for months on end the frost and ice seems to be permanently stuck to the tarmac, the road surface never seeing the light of day.

This winter it will be very different. This winter the landscape has changed. Where once there was shadowy darkness, now we see the aftermath of man and machinery. The changes the logging has brought to our environment are quite shocking.

I hear myself explaining to my children that this is managed woodland, the reason these trees were planted was so that they could be cut and used in industry. This is a good thing. My children express concern that the wildlife - the birds, mice, insects have now become homeless, their worlds turned upside down as a result of this felling, and I have had to do my best to calm them, reassure them that nothing will be hurt, everything will find a new home, everything that lived amongst the trees will find somewhere new to live, however disorientating it is for them now.

And yet........ I feel their concern too. I look at the temporary roads that have been carved out, the wood piles as they get higher and higher, the sunlight as it blankets soil for the first time in years and years and I imagine the turmoil this type of farming has caused for everything that resides there.

The streaming sunlight should be a good thing shouldn't it? The light and the warmth and the openness? Yet I'm looking at the sunlit twigs and branches as they lay discarded and cloaked with golden hues and I can't help but think what an enormously massive change has just taken place.

The trees can do nothing but wait patiently for their time to come. They can't move to a new home, or run away. With quiet dignity, for they have no choice, these tall, scented, prickly trees await their inevitable fate.

We are witnessing the end of life as it was for years and years in our neighbourhood and are awaiting something new....

That's a good thing ....... right?

Solitude

"Get outside" she said

And so I did.

I walked and walked the mossy lanes, the only tunes from the wind, my breath and the sound of my own thoughts until...

the words stopped whirling and churning around my head, they settled and slunk away.

I saw the tiny flowers, the mossy banks, the textures and the colour. Colour surrounded me.

Many shades of blue and green, red and purple, sometimes stopping me in my tracks to observe and capture.

Nature wove her magic that autumn morning when I was alone with my thoughts. 

She replaced those dark, negative thoughts with sparkle and light.

Never underestimate the healing power of nature... 

"There are days when soliturde is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall" Sidonie Gabrielle Colette

Knocks and Bumps

Deep water or sunny reflection.... ?

Have you ever wished you could be clothed in bubble wrap and protected from life's knocks and bumps?

I'm sure I'm not the only one who sometimes longs to be shielded from hurt, distrust and unkindness that occasionally surfaces as it's want to do. It doesn't seem to matter whether we're seven or seventy, things can still get under our skin.

I quite like the idea of being cocooned in bubble wrap, comfortably nestled amongst the air filled pockets so that everything thrown will just bounce off, leaving us in one piece, whole and unbroken. Sadly it's not an option. Inevitably those irresistibly squishy bubbles are popped and flattened leaving the contents vulnerable and exposed.... then it takes sheer strength and perhaps a dose of luck to ensure the valuable essence that was carefully wrapped and safeguarded remains unscathed.

The Sea

Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls ~ Khalil Gibran

The sea, the sea, how miss living by the sea. Listening to the surf as it rolls and crashes, hearing it whistle and fizz as the water rushes through the gaps in the rounded stones, an explosion of froth and spray when it breaks upon mussel covered rocks.

Oh how I yearn to spend more time here! Walking across the damp sand, toes sinking between the bubble wrapped seaweed that's scattered carelessly around, placing my feet into silhouetted imprints until the rippling water covers them as if they were never there...

I can taste salt on the tip of my tongue, my hair thickens as the warm wind whips it around, curling it to my face as I sit on my blanket, arms wrapped around my knees, gazing out to the horizon, thinking, smiling, remembering...

A lone seagull catches my eye as it gently glides, gracefully catching the warm thermal airflow's above, living for the moment, seemingly not a worry in the world.

Oh the sea, how my soul leaps when it it sees you. Next time I won't leave it as long before I visit you again.

Left wanting...

You know when you're perfectly happy driving around in your old car and then you get to drive something newer with electric this and adjustable that? This weekend I experienced similar and it's left me wanting. I was perfectly happy with my fancy phone camera until this week. At 8.5 megapixels it's sharp and clear, it's with me wherever I go and even before the upgrade, it's always seemed sufficient for my blogging needs.

However that was before. This weekend I was spoilt when I borrowed a DSLR, had a five minute tour of it and attended a one day wildlife photography workshop with Andrew Kelly. All of a sudden my phone camera doesn't seem quite good enough.

As a complete beginner to digital photography I have a tremendous amount to learn, and I want to learn. I soaked up every bit of information shared with us, took the opportunity to ask lots of (probably very dumb) questions and headed out in the garden as soon as I arrived home determined to capture every butterfly, bee or insect I could find. I wanted to put my new found knowledge into practice.

But just like the bees on this sedum, my new hobby is fleeting, I'll only have the camera for a few more days and I'm not in a position to pop down the shops and buy one of my own. Perhaps next year, but certainly not this.

So for now I'll have to commit everything I've learnt to memory and hope it comes back to me next time I have the opportunity to use a lovely camera that I can manually operate.

I've found it interesting to see just how quickly my views on photography changed. From appreciating the clarity and colour to enjoying the challenge of learning the more technical aspects of the equipment. Then there's the thrill when you view a shot on the screen you're happy with and the anticipation of seeing it later on the computer screen (how on earth did photographers wait six weeks for their films to arrive back years ago??).

Lastly there's the sheer wonderment of getting so closeup and personal with the wildlife you're observing. I can now fully understand why people are so interested in this subject, there's more to it than meets the eye....

Do you have a hobby that you fell in love with as soon as you started it?

Being Wrong

How easy do you find it to admit that a perception you've had was wrong?

Have you ever been so convinced, so certain about something, only to have a change of heart that makes you doubt your conviction?

We grow up hearing the phrase 'trust your instincts' and as we grow older we turn to them more often. However, what if we wholeheartedly believe and trust in them only to realise we (or they) had got it wrong? What then?

Admitting we've got something wrong can be very difficult and for some impossible - they might never manage it. If foot shuffling children can find it hard to admit to, what hope is there for anyone else, particularly if they've been brought up in an environment that doesn't change its mind?

It's not so much the getting it wrong part that leaves you feeling uncomfortable (though that's bad enough). The egg on the face, bottom squirming discomfort as you stutter out the words, the gleeful expression (real or imagined) from the other parties when you tell them you've changed your mind. That's easy in comparison to what's going on inside.

You've listened to your instinct, that sixth sense that has kept you safe and secure for all these years... and it was wrong. You had a gut clenching feeling that you were adamantly sure you were right about, only to find it wasn't real after all. You. Were. Wrong.

That's the world rocking bit. That's what completely knocks you off kilter. Will you ever trust your instincts again.

How on earth do you ever get over that?\

Journeys

Do you like travelling, heading off on a journey?

Sometimes I dread them, sometimes I can't wait to get started on them. Journeys can be a time of tremendous stress. If you're running late, aren't sure where you're going, or suffer a breakdown of some description journeys can at the very least raise the blood pressure to unhealthy levels! When you're trying to keep children entertained, are in the company of grumpy relatives or are just overtired from a particularly long, hot trip they can be a blood boiling experience.

On the other hand they can be a rewarding, eye opening adventure. Journeys can be the perfect excuse for handing yourself over to someone else and literally hopping on for the ride.

They can be an opportunity for reflection, day dreaming, anticipation and relaxation. You can spend hours briefly caught up watching snapshots of other peoples lives, observing mankind in all shapes and forms. You can watch unfamiliar landscapes whizz by, experience a myriad of weather systems, listen to a colourful array of accents and breath in new and unfamiliar scents.

So what kind of traveller are you? Are you a willing one?