In the time of the skylark – rainbows (3)

8 April 2020

My Dearest Boy,

The skylark is now my alarm clock.  Each morning it is up before I am awake; afield before I am up and “breakfasted” before I am afield (Thank you, Mr Hardy).  I walk early and the deer and rabbits are surprised to see me.  Today as I sat on a log and opened my flask of coffee a sparrowhawk circled uncomfortably low down above my head.  I was almost afeared he thought me a mouse;  I am beginning to feel so at one with the landscape.

I saw so many things which would have amused you today.  There was a jingle jangle scarecrow, arms without muscle, rubber-gloved hands, in a field close to the lady’s house where I now buy our eggs.

I found a painted rock, peppered with rainbow colours  by a stile. Then there were the  pictures of those curved spectrums of hopeful light which adorned so many child-inhabited houses.

But, of course, my favourite pictures were of Elmer the elephant.  The patchwork joker, who is different from the crowd.  Such an interesting story about diversity and our roles and obligations.

You love books so much, my Dearest boy.  Each time we have a video call I show you three books and you chose one for me to record.  Last week it was “Dig, dig, digging”.  This has been one of your favourite books at Nana and Grandad T’s house since I bought it back from a wonderful independent bookshop in Marlborough, near the start of the Wessex Ridgeway.

I’m so pleased you love books and also that you enjoy walking.  You are just getting to the age to walk further now and I still have many plans of places to take you and Nana things to introduce you to.  You will learn how important walking is to me.  When I walk, I travel into places as well as across them.  Paths run through people as surely as places and sometimes they need to be remade.  (The tractor has ploughed over the field behind our house!)

Particularly at present, the villages around here seem independent and separate as they would have done so many years ago.  Each one looks cosy and a haven of safety nestled into their own particular place.  But, of course, they are all interconnected in so many ways – not just by the paths.

Grandad T with his quangle wangle hat joined me for a while today!  He misses you too.

The frogspawn you fished from our pond five weeks’ ago has hatched into tadpoles.  The first “fallen stars of the football pitch” are flowering up on The New Grounds.

The year moves on.

 

 

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