In spite of beautiful blue morning, yesterday's sadness clings to me..a second damp skin.
I walk with tears never far away...memories of Robin in his last days surface unbidden...slaying me in the soft early light....
the fields, dew drenched. The air smells of damp, autumn earth.
Black Beauty keeps eating the grass...
slowly moving towards me as I wait
at the gate for her. But she doesn't approach any further ...and I need to leave.
She's not alone this morning ...sharing the field with a few sheep..
who have long surprising tails..
and the ram has curled horns ...
and black speckled face and legs.
I'm not alone either... I see the sheep first in the distance, running towards something ....it's a woman carrying a child, walking in the dew.
A long band of mist hangs over the valley...
I feel this vista could be in another country..Italy....France...Spain.
Different sheep....
lit up by the sun...
shining furry beacons.
The Belgians in Devon..love them.
The sky - a faultless blue.
Another woman .... walking past the horses.... I have seen her before in the same field...maybe she is their owner.
Back home I slip into my usual Thursday routine...taking the wobbly parcel of my grief with me into the familiar comfort of the farmers' organic market.
It slowly shrinks away as I dip into the baskets of green beans, young carrots, fat cobs of wrapped up sweetcorn and sugar snap peas....choosing next week's suppers is the perfect task at hand....as well as sharing it all with dear friends over two cups of oat milk mocha in our local cafe....helping me transmute this forever loss with their loving wise attention.
Later I immerse myself in my favourite pastime ...cooking..... making tomorrow's supper for dearly beloveds..scrubbing vegetables, stirring pots of nourishment ....forgetting to be lost and alone and bereft.... rooted as I am in each fragrant moment.
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