If,on a morning such as this,you have to pinch yourself at the sheer depth of beauty that surrounds us as those sunny July mornings draw us to their colours,you are appreciating the gift of life.As. Look out f my window,the gentle breeze sways the hedgerow from side to side in a rhythm that gives me cause to feel a certain peace from its motion.Occasinally,I hear the staccato notes of a bird akin to “The Cuckoo”coming from the far end of the garden.This sound seems always more acute on a Sunday morning ,when the cars along the main road outside where I live have retreated to their driveways and car ports,leaving the Tarmac friendless for just a little while until folks head out for the day.
This period in the early morning is a favourite time of day to me as I tend to wake up-probably just like you-at the same time each day.Drinking my glass of water,I wonder just how we as humans seem so fitted to appreciate nature and its bounties on the one hand,yet,by our very existence at times,threaten to upset ,or destroy its delicate ecological balance.Its just a thought really,I don’t have any scientific reasoning as to how it could be rectified,if,indeed,it can be,but I hope it can,and I feel that hope is a very strong motivating force in any walk of life.
As I wrote that last paragraphs,my two dogs,for reasons perhaps only apparent to them,decided to bark profusely and running out the f the opened back door with a pace to rival Usain Bolt,down the garden to ward off the “intrepid intruder”,only to be defeated by the flight of the Harrier jump jet that are the birds in the garden.My dogs have never quite learnt that you can’t change who you are,and while being a quadruped has its advantages,the lack of wings and feathers make it impossible to compete with the sparrows,finches,and robins that inhabit the garden,and they will always have the last song in this “Tom and Jerry” cat and mouse game,
As they settle down from their activities to a deep slumber ,I wonder how they can go from heightened activity to complete and utter inactivity in just a few minutes,it’s quite amazing really,it really is,but that is how they roll.
Now,at around a quarter past 8,the birds are engaging in a symphonic fantasy with calls of different pitches and intensity.Some reach the soprano range,while other start from an alto base preferring that vocal level.Each bird has its song and I hear them easily because of the lack of traffic.As the morning moves forward,then there will be more of a competition with the hustle of Pneumatic tyre over the tarmac as the asphalt welcomes its main user to its thoroughfare.Dont get me wrong,the sound of pneumatic tyres of the Peleton in the tour will grab my attention during the next three weeks,but this simple ,soft,intimate “Nature symphonic fantasy”is extremely restful and it would be so wonderful to bottle that peace if that makes any sense.
As now is twenty past eight,maybe the morning for me has to start ,to contemplate this “serene Sunday”.
This is my muse for today.