A Bouquet of Dreams
It was a beautiful golden day in May, lapped in light and the heat of noon. The gulls were cleaving the sky with their echoing cries; the wind wandered by the beech and the willows stirring their branches as they softly sighed. The hawthorn too looked sweet and fresh, like apples in rain. The blooming mayflowers that were now sprinkling their floral delights from every spray would soon be fading, as in Autumn they will become laden with a rich bounty of bright red shiny peggles. Maverick and I lingered a while to quaff its heady fragrance, when keen from her lair a spider leaned to procure the many tiny white flies that visited the flowers. I watched the many butterflies’ wings open and close like a hinge, sun blessed as they basked in the warmth of the sun, the bees too were droning their sounds rising as gradual as a lute, becoming almost meditative.
As we continued our journey we approached a meandering, singing stream where rock bound weeds swayed too and fro’ I caught the sight of the button-eyes of a pair of mallard ducks, they gossiped, paddled, dived and basked in the warm sunshine, and my thoughts began to wander, for I believe that water was brought to this earth for the creation of beauty. Just allowing yourself to flow and let your wonders grow. When peace of mind has so many enemies this is a wonderful place to be.
With sudden alarm to my consternation a deer came out of the shadows, Maverick merely waited, bright eyed and watchful, my heart melted just like snow. The deer with clear eyes fixed and as stiff as a guardsman never a hair stirred for several magical moments, then sneaking furtively with side long glances he disappeared without a trace. On several occasions I have caught a glimpse of Lightfoot, but he always appeared to cross the path when the vibrations were lessened, always crossing in the same location.
This place was like an ointment healing the many scars of life, I had goosebumps. As Maverick and I ambled along the quiet lane, we came across an elderly man resting in his garden, tired after his morning toil, with his eyes in the shadow of his hat in his sleep drowsed hour, unaccountably calm and happy. He may appear to be quiet and unassuming but whoever encounters this kind gentleman, and whatever is hurting you in your dark thoughts, clarity will replace your confusion, and calmness will ease your heart as he sprinkles his magic over your sadness. In his wisdom he understands the longest journey is inward, into the muddy mire of life.
I watched in wonder a dunnock flitting hither and about, which alighted by his side, just a small brown bird that is often seen as a guide to mindfulness and simplicity, living in tune with nature just like him, appreciating the small yet profound moments in life like a sunrise, faithful and bright. We silently passed him by, I hope he has a bouquet of dreams with a river of happy memories. As for myself, my riches come by every day, and writing about ordinary nature in the places I know best has been a wonderful mental palette cleanser. However, for the pleasures I have known, I need to repay all I have taken and share my writing with all my readers. For a long time, I have thought that something has been lost from us, but I hope that some fresh delights may remain. I sincerely believe that by continuing to write my short stories, ink and print may bring it all back to us.
