I need some new batteries for my point-and-shoot camera, so I am painting a word picture for you today, instead.
An early morning walk - the air cool but clear. In the east, a strew of high dappled clouds above a clear brightening horizon, and to the west, the earth's blue-grey shadow is being chased down the sky by a rose-pink band.
The dawn clouds slowly turn from brown, through crimson and neon orange to yellow, then fade to white as the sun rises. A few tiny puffs of lower cloud cast dark radiating shadows on the higher ones, like reverse sunrays.
Looking over the sea, Venus is nestling down in her bed of fluffy pink clouds, after a busy night shining on the dark land, and a fat crescent moon sails above her in the mid-blue sky.
As it lightens, I can see that every grass blade is decorated with a tiny dewdrop, and discordantly, three planes heading south for the winter, leaving hard contrails across the fractal beauty of the clouds.
I stand still and shut my eyes to concentrate for a moment or two. I can small the richness of damp earth and fallen leaves, and feel s slight breeze on my face. A rural soundscape too: twittering finches zipping overhead; a distant cock pheasant; gulls and rooks calling to their chums in the barley field, and the stockman at Shapwick hallooing in the cows for milking.
Again, the modern world obtrudes with the steadily gathering whoosh of distant traffic, and as I round the corner of the house at 7, the whump of the burner as the boiler fires up. Home!
Time to put the kettle on for a cuppa, and start making the porridge...
06/11/07 @ 18:26