18 January 2011

good days

There's a slow rising mist over Hala beck and golden light from the sun as it peeks its head over a cloud bank. All the birds are singing like crazy: as if they know something. Everything looks a sort of golden green colour: the boughs of the trees, the walls, gates, fenceposts and sheds, even the greenhouse glass and sheets of corrugated iron; like everything has been painted with bacterial greenwash - I suppose it has been.

All the chikkins are in a fine perky, peckky mood. They rush out of the coop as soon as you open the door - it's funny - I call it the charge of the light sussex brigade. They've left a mountain of poop to clear up after our weekend away, but it's all good fertiliser which I will mix into the greenhouse soil when I dig it over.

Things seem simple and uncomplicated up here. I like the stillness and just sitting watching and listening to the birds and the warming sun lift the moisture off the damp grass in swirls of mist. I like not thinking sometimes; it's like a waking dream - you sometimes get it when you're playing music really well, and it just flows and feels effortless. Good days.


Steve Zara said...

That was bliss to read. Thank you. Good dinosaur pic at the top too.

clodhopper said...

Aww..thanks Steve...glad I was able to give you a raptor moment..