Tuesday, 19 May 2009

The Willow Grove

The river Cole and willows
This is one of my favourite places, a cycle path near to where I have been working for the past nine years; a little river, willows, butterflies, bees, birds, a profusion of wild hedgerow flowers and trees (including a few elders that I have grown fond of). I have been to this spot in snow, rain, wind, and sparkling sunshine. When I felt like a prisoner chained to a computer and telephone, with just a patch of sky to be glimpsed through window, I could escape for half an hour and come here. It has kept me sane; next month I am leaving my job to strike out on my own - navigating the uncharted waters of self discovery, my only compass being a deep sense of connection with the natural world.
I look forward to Life's continuing adventure with anticipation, meanwhile this is a homage to my lunchtime sanctuary.
[Jon Dathen writes in his little book of Ogham the following: To see the willows in their true light, choose a midsummer night when the moon is full]

I could write many words about the willow, would have no difficulty in finding a poem to quote; though may well be repeating myself, as I know I have written about willows before. What I love about them is that when you see willows you know there is a stream or river nearby.

The life-force and song of the land - a silvery breeze whispering through shimmering leaves.