The seasons turn as we approach the turning point, the Solstice… the longest night… just three short weeks away. And yet, the sky is beautiful this morning, a clear, deep blue graced with the lights of heaven. The world is still and silent, even the birds are hushed as dawn creeps over the horizon of a rain-washed world. The moon lights the village and touches the rooftops with silver. Branches are down in the lane and few are the leaves that still cling tenaciously to the trees, most stripped away by the vicious fingers of winter winds.
There is such strength in the grasp of leaf to twig, both so fragile they can be plucked and broken by a child, yet the bond of life so strong it can withstand the most inclement weather. Until it is time for them to fall.
Even when the leaves fall it is part of a greater renewal, the confetti of the marriage of the seasons, nourishing the earth and the tree from whence they fell. The tree sleeps through the winter, seemingly lifeless, husbanding its resources against the coming of spring. Beneath the skeletal surface of this dying time the life within shapes new leaves and blossoms, waiting in pregnant patience for the warm kiss of the sun.
Leaves fall, branches break… the old and sere stripped away by the turning wheel of the year, clearing the way for a green birth.
There is so much laid out before us, even in the avenues of our city streets. The life of nature is so strong and so beautifully balanced. So easy to damage when, with careless hands her children grasp at her skirts, taking anything that claims their attention and desire… yet strong enough to recover when we are no more.
In the little wood where we sometimes walk, the small dog and I, man has left his traces. From the earliest times, track and road have passed this way. From the air, the circled marks of ancient homes can be seen in the fields, the line of a Roman road, lost now to plough and furrow. And still we carve this little patch of green to serve our needs. Yet as soon as we turn our back the wild things cover our tracks, reclaiming the earth for themselves, our little lives more fragile than their delicate blooms.
Continue reading at The Silent Eye
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
A long night with thoughts..hope so 🙂
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🙂
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At this time of year it seems as though there’s so much more going on at night, it’s a shame not to be out in it.
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I always loved walking at night…especially this time of year when the branches let the starlight through.
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We were out yesterday, had to go to Marmande, and on the way back, along the stretch of the road where the plain of the Garonne stretches from horizon to horizon, we were caught between the rays of the setting sun on one side and the rising moon on the other. It was magical. I thought of you for some reason. Maybe the sight of the moon in a blue sky 🙂
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That sounds wonderful, Jane. The light over there has its own special quality. 🙂
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It does, and it’s clear right down to the ground, no dark pollution haze. There are stretches of untidy containers by the road, but lots of stretches of flat fields and meadows. Homely countryside.
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I miss the light… and the space.
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It’s hard enough to be surrounded by a landscape that is completely man made. I’d hate to be surrounded by people too with no possibility of getting away from them.
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I am glad I do not live in a city. The dge of the village with fields on hand is good…although they have blocked access all around at the moment for HS2…
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What’s HS2?
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High speed rail line to the north that will cut through miles of countryside, villages and archaeology…
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Can’t they just refurbish the existing lines? The English countryside is already cut to bits by motorways.
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No, this is high speed rail… to cut nearly half of the (two hour) journey time on those business trips few will be taking now people have become used to virtual meetings and working from home…
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Ah I see, an exclusive (I assume expensive) link for execs who will have their expenses paid. A day out on the firm. Who needs to be present physically at meetings these days?
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It does seem a tad outdated…
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It won’t stop them if there’s money to be made for the cronies.
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No…
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Dawn this time of year has a special beauty…your words capture that feeling for me. (K)
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I love winter dawns and see most of them here, for which I am exceedingly grateful.
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