It is with envy as I make my way to work, that I pass a fingerpost pointing away from the busy road. It takes my eye away from the bumper of the car in front of me and through the gap in the hedge to, well, who knows where.
I’ve never walked this path, and countless others like it. Just the mere sight of an untrodden path and the mystery of where it might go leads to an adventure-hungry excitement.
Maybe some paths aren’t meant to be explored in the physical sense. They may be the ones to walk along in the mind, calming the flow of thoughts through the conscious, creating a kind of utopia over the hedge. There’s the fear that what lies beyond will not live up to expectations, which happens just as much as the reverse, when the path exceeds hopes, and becomes immortal in the memory.
I tend to find that the feeling I take away from a path or series of paths has a lot to do with the weather on the day that I first tread them. An average walk with perfect conditions can easily eclipse a stunning walk with dreadful conditions.
In honesty, I don’t think I will ever tread my morning path. Probably because the thought of not knowing is of far more use to me that the fact of knowing.
It is with great pleasure that we welcome spring time. In the past week I have seen my first bees of the year, green shoots in the hedgerows and pink blossom coming through.
I’ve always loved seeing the white blossom of Hawthorn, either because it’s earliest coming into bloom or because of its white brilliance.
Easily though, the best aspect of spring is the dawn chorus. Trying to identify specific birds can be difficult, but nowadays there is a plethora of resource available online to help us work out what is around us. With some species, the cuckoo being a prime example, it is more common to hear them than see them. I’ve never seen a cuckoo but have heard them on many occasions.
Spring really is my favourite time of year, despite the topsy-turvy weather. It really is a great time of year for all of the senses – sight, sound and smell particularly. And when it’s over? The pure elegance of summer.
After a couple of weeks despairing over losing what we have, I thought I’d lighten the mood a little today by writing about my weekend where I got out and enjoyed what we have instead. After all, if I spent all my life fighting for something I’d probably neglect to enjoy it during the process too, leading to an awkward paradox.
In preparation for my ultra marathon in a few weeks time I went and ran some of the route on Sunday morning. It was the best day weather wise of the long Easter weekend, a little chilly but bright.
The route is a hilly one, but the paths, trees and views help you forget all of that in no time.
The woodland that I ran through were flooded with spring sunlight and birdsong. The brown woodland floor starting to turn green in the glades and a few wildflowers popping up, such as the Wood Anemone (Anemone nemorosa).
Among the many highlights were hearing the woodpeckers drilling, seeing buzzards soaring and seeing the first bees of the year. My favourite part was glimpsing a fox across the field as it nonchalantly trotted away, occasionally pausing to glance back at me as if he were daring me to pursue him.
It truly is a beautiful part of the county, if not the country altogether. After considering the countryside we have lost, I’m proud we’ve managed to keep hold of some – and may it always be so.