A moment’s peace…

Two herons flew over the garden today; they had no interest in the pond below, intent only their pursuit of each other. Half a dozen kites wheeling, diving and chasing each other in the skies… and a busy bluetit, lining the nesting box under the eaves. Buds on the roses are fattening nicely… all reminders that spring is happening, whether we notice or not. Although perhaps, at the moment, we are noticing the changes in nature more than ever.

On my five-mile drive to work, I pass through fields bordered with hedgerows. I have seen the daffodils bloom and fade in great golden banks, watched the bare branches of blackthorn don their lacy finery, grateful for even such forays into greenery. But more than anything, it is an old oak that has been my measure of the coming of spring.

The oak tree sits beside the normally-busy road. Sometimes a buzzard will perch in its branches, sometimes the rising sun seems to rest there and often it is a ghostly presence, shrouded in mist.

I have watched its bronzed leaves cling late into the winter and seen its bare branches stand guard over the first stirrings of the spring. I have seen it weighed down by snow and weathering the storms. Today, though, even driving past, you could see when the buds began to swell…and today, it was decked in green, called forth by the past few days of sun. It is always amongst the last of the trees to wake from its long sleep… and now I know that spring is well and truly here.

It gives a sense of hope and new beginnings to the morning as I drive through the unwonted silence of empty roads. There is plenty of room for hope at the moment, with the world turned topsy-turvy and so much uncertainty, fear and anxiety around. But as I inspect each flower in my son’s garden, seeing how much it has grown overnight and watching the starry petals of the tulips open to the sun, instead of the constricted world bounded by our walls, fences and an imposed isolation, I see the infinite wonder of nature and its wide horizons opening before me.  And, for that moment, there is only peace.

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com.
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19 Responses to A moment’s peace…

  1. Jaye Marie says:

    Yes, I stagger outside as much as I can these days, Sue, as I find the only peace to be had, hiding amongst the busier than ever mother nature…


  2. joylennick says:

    Everyone who appreciates the wonders of nature, should read your expressive words, Sue. Living in a sort of suburban area, while a mile from the sea, we are not allowed on the beaches at present, or to venture too far in the countryside (in Spain, police fines are prompt). Instead, I sit and watch the (fewer?) swifts from our patio, winging past like Red Devils, inspect the estate gardens (communal) the splendid tub of white daisies, the vivid cerise bougainvillea and the sedate palm trees,and do a few circuits of the pool . (I also admit to a few dance steps around the washing poles…but don’t tell anyone!) Take care. x


  3. Sadje says:

    We do get nature’s messages even if we are not consciously aware of them. The hope and peace gladdens the heart. An inspiring post.


  4. What a lovely post, Sue. Dawn and flowers and spring are such beautiful and readily available signs of life and hope. Thanks for the morning smile. 🙂


  5. Beautiful post and pictures Sue.


  6. Think/feel it is only seeing the nature around me on my daily walk that is keeping me sane at this time. As well as my walks this includes the natural world in blogs I follow.


  7. Jennie says:

    Your final words are always a big punch. I call then killer sentences. The infinite wonder of nature, wide horizons, and that brings you peace. Yes!! And then it occurred to me that the heron you saw was perhaps typical. Well, if I saw a heron, I would probably have a stroke! I take for granted the red tailed hawk and golden eagle, but I know other people would faint to see one soaring overhead. So, your moment of peace (or mine) might also be a moment of wonder for someone else. Isn’t that wonderful?


  8. willowdot21 says:

    And we are grateful for that 💜


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