A Fire...planting a stake of faith into the future.

The first signs of autumn creeping into the garden this week.... 

The silver birch leaves turning to bronze and gold.

Sitting on my bench this evening I heard what I thought was the  chattering of a bird. It was this squirrel chittering and squeaking in the branches above me. 

My view into the  sudden sun this evening- a lovely bonus -  as it has been overcast and cool all day....

shining on the seeds of the European ash.....

 highlighting my tinkling brook...

and brightening the square of field beyond the hazel hedge.

It is a wonderful year for blackberries...

these are dangling down in long fruit-laden swags, woven into the hazel hedge at the very end if the garden.... 

impossible to reach even with the tallest ladder I could find.

Tonight for the first time I set a fire from dry logs and kindling sticks I discover in a  large wicker basket in the ride-on mower garage.

It lights up instantly...the flames surging up the chimney, telling me that I may not need to get it swept  if it is drawing so well.

I'm thrilled ....it transforms the feeling of the room....I can hardly bear to leave it to make my supper...I don't want to miss a single leaping flame or crackle of log. I love the smell of wood smoke lingering in my pjs.

I have always loved fires - indoors or outdoors. We only had an open fire for a few winter months in the house we first bought when we came to Devon. And in one we rented for a year in Axminster.

The one I made tonight feels like planting a stake of faith into the future. 

Even if I install a wood burning stove in its place it means I will always have flames ...and a hearth ....and a heart centre in my home.

Walking and Talking and Trusting my Gut Instinct

Today I walk with dear friends along the banks of the River Otter.... walk and talk...

followed by lunch at the Otterton Mill Restaurant. Deep bowls of tomato and red pepper soup, warm cheese scones and a wedge of butter.

It is still a working flour mill ....the grinding wheels are stopped today.

But not my associations of the place....it's so full of memories of bringing visitors here....all my family as well. And always Robin.

The walking and talking is so good....and later, after supper of sweetcorn on the cob and roasted sweet potatoes and left over plum and fig and almond crumble, I sit with my friend on the sofa, sit with the cramping pain in my gut which I've had most of the day. And  I let myself feel it, and how it hurts and how it feels so much better to make room for it, to soften my heart towards it and let go of some of the resistance and fear locked up in it.

Just being kind....and trusting my gut instinct that I can heal....that  it will not always be like this.

More to discover around the next bend in the lane.

I wrote this on Friday but the photos wouldn't upload so I didn't post it. I think it is to do with running out of storage...I have long online chats with Google support....still a mystery as they have uploaded now without changing anything.

In my newly painted front lobby.

Dear friends and dog come for lunch ...

bringing garden gifts and lots of interesting ideas how to improve the house.

After they leave to drive back to Cornwall I walk out of the house, past the allotments opposite my drive and  up the hill for ten minutes.  And off to the right I discover a public footpath running along the side of the fields giving the most wonderful views of the village and its surroundings.   

I can't really believe that I have all this in walking distance of my house. And I didn't know it.

I feel more located now that I have walked past the view of the fields I can see from my bedroom window....and beyond. 

And there is still more to discover around the next bend in the lane. On another day.

And I have so many days ahead of me....

I am Witness to Journey of Miraculous Magic.

I wake at 4.30am. The sky is so bright I think it must be full moon. But it's the stars.The planets.

I go downstairs, open the back door and step into a canopy of crystal sparkle above me. I only remember ever seeing the night sky lit up like this in the Southern Hemisphere. In Africa.

My camera doesn't capture it.

There is a moon as well but  only the sliver of a crescent, hiding behind the branches of the European Ash tree.

It's not cold. 

It's quiet, quiet, still, still. 

No breeze.

No animal sound.

No water sound.

The whole world holding its breath

in my garden.

The grass is wet, soft under my feet.

 I wrap myself in the pussy cat blanket,

make a mug of hot tea 

and sit on the wide wooden step outside the kitchen door.

And wait for the dawn.

Wait and watch in wonder. And awe.

Slowly slowly it comes.

The moon rises out of  the ash tree

the pattern of stars fades

only the brightest remain - 

a line of three.

The first sound is the call of an owl -  almost a cat's howl

Then a car engine starting up.

Then the chimes of the church bell in the village.

Six rings.

Then a plane overhead,

and monochrome turns to a wash of colour.

I sense the sheep in the field move almost as one. They have been there all this time. Not making a sound.

 After the owl calls, the hedge comes alive with a chorus of  sparrows.

The parliament of crows and gulls and pigeons punctures the stillness. 

The small black shadow of a bat flits in and out of the plane tree.

The sky is completely light now but I'm still waiting for the sun to come.

And finally at 7.30 am it bursts through the leaves of the ash tree, striping the dew on the grass with gold.

It is in exactly the same place where I saw the crescent moon at 4.30 am slipping out of the branches of the European Ash tree beyond the stream at the bottom of the garden.

 I feel as if I've been a witness to a journey of miraculous magic.

It  happens every night,  another day dawns

 all over the world.

The sun always rises with or without me.

 But today I was blessed to be there. And I feel more alive, more awake than I have for ages and ages..as if it is worth being here after all....rescued by the dawn...just in time.