The tree didn’t blow in the wind. It just stood frozen at the end of the field.
The tree didn’t blow in the wind. It just stood frozen at the end of the field.
The months fly, the seasons change, we live against darkening skies, awaiting the sleep that falls on all of us.
Life is like the flow of a river, I realised looking up at the waterfall from the canvas I had been painting on. You start off like a spring then become a stream, turning this way and that as you take different paths. Then you join a river and carry on going through things; some good and some bad, changing and growing older. Finally, you join the sea ending your life.
I looked down at the canvas balanced on the small easel, the painting I had done was a likeness of the waterfall and mossy rocks below, but I didn’t like it. Some of the strokes looked childlike and I really hadn’t captured the true beautiful force of the waterfall. I signed and began to pack up. It was always the same when I paused and valuated my art; I couldn’t go on when I became negative about it.
When I was done, I stood and watched the river carrying on tumbling down. The sound was so calming and mixed in with the soft singing of the birds and the rustle of the trees this place was a peaceful spot. The river then bubbled past me and away into a cluster of trees towards the next waterfall. It began raining.
I looked up at the sky frowning then ducked into the cover of some trees. A thought popped into my head; this is the full circle of water. I watched the raindrops falling in the ground and realised that we too became a part of the earth, only we didn’t raise up again. It was a morbid thought but at the same time reassuring.
The river couldn’t stop it’s flow and nor could we stop the flow of life.
(Inspired by https://scvincent.com/2017/09/21/thursday-photo-prompt-flow-writephoto/ with thanks).
In the woods you can just be yourself. You don’t have to answer to anyone. The trees and animals accept you for being you. Peace will come upon you in the woods as you shut your eyes and take deep breaths. The river plays a soft song for you, helping to relax your body. The breeze moves the trees carefully, carring the scent of flowers and grass to you on warm carcasses. The birds chime happily in the trees, even though they don’t play for you, they can’t resist an early evening at the height of summer. And you can let go of everything that has been holding you back. Release the stress and worries into nature. Now breath.
Finally, Ross had found a job he could gladly do till he died. Yes, it wasn’t his dream job but those often didn’t go how you wanted anyway. Out here he could mostly be free and get on with tasks to the back drop of nature instead of some dull office. Ross also got to see sights other people never would and through he wasn’t big headed, he sometimes wondered if he had a Gods’ eye view of the world now and that made him very happy.
(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2017/07/04/twittering_tale-39-4_july_2017/ with thanks)
The river consumed everything in it’s path.
Not caring if it was natural or man-made, it swept all it away.
Washing the earth clean of everything that once was.
The river was good at keeping secrets. Though sometimes it decided to give them up; a broken arrow from a hunt, a lost ring from a lovers’ quarrel, a human body. A few secrets though, it would never give up.
(Inspired from; https://scvincent.com/2017/05/11/thursday-photo-prompt-green-writephoto/ with thanks)
Standing under the first apple tree in the row of twenty at the end of my field, I thought about what my granddad had told me when we had been planting these trees thirty years ago.
‘Money grows on trees, you know. And these trees are very special. They are going to make you lots of money, Abbey.’
He hadn’t been wrong. The trees produced a large amount of sweet apples which were good for eating and cider making. The extra money had always been useful and the harvest had never failed.
Staring up through the branches at slices of sky, I wondered what was going to happen now.
‘I wish you did grow money,’ I said.
The wind gently shook the trees, rustling the green leaves and I breathed in the heavy fragrant scent of spring.
I shut my eyes and though it was childish, pretended that the trees were answering me.
‘Perhaps, we can’t grow real money. But haven’t we provided you with more?’ the trees whispered to me.
‘And I’m grateful, but now…I’m at a loss. I don’t want to give you up but what else can I do?’ I asked.
The trees seemed to sigh.
Money isn’t a thing that bothers trees; they didn’t value it. Life however is something they need.
‘You could be cut down….’ I mutter and picture this bright meadow gone and replaced by houses.
‘Whatever will be will be,’ the trees tell me, ‘if you have the power to change it then try. Life’s cycle will continue no matter what.’
‘Then, I’ll try and change it…Everything in my power I’ll do and I’ll save you trees!’ I yell.
Birds startle into the sky flapping loudly and the wind shakes the trees as if they are cheering me on. The field becomes quiet again and I know what I must do.
Petrichor; the pleasant smell of the earth after rain.
Everything smells better after it’s rained. There’s a cleanness in air which my ma said was God washing and cleansing everyone. I use to believe that without a doubt. Now though, I’m not sure. There’s so much I believed in as a child which has faded now I’m adult.
It’s strange how different things are after the rain. You notice the pools and reflections of things more. The sounds of splashing wheels and feet. The dripping of drops off things. I randomly remember a boy once telling me that the rain was actually a leak from Heaven’s showers.
I wondered for ages how that was possible and pictured angels having showers all together. Or God having a bath and all the water overflowing. Maybe that was the real reason behind a flood?
When you’re a child it’s easier to believe in these things. As an adult you are more logic and less imaginative. You know how rain is made and why it falls. The novelty of it has worn off too, like snow. I use to love snow! Now, it’s just a pain.
Even though, I know the truth behind things now, it doesn’t take the pleasure away from them. During the rainfall and afterwards, I open my window to let all the smells and sounds in. I sit on the ledge and take deep breaths till I feel calmer. I try to think of nothing at all, but sometimes like today, my mind wonders.
I look up at the sky, where the dark clouds roam and a few rain drops still linger. Are God and the angels up there right now having a bath and cleansing the poor below?
I nudged the white headphones with the tip of my walking boot and tried to figure out why someone might have left them on the footpath. They looked new, but perhaps they were broken. Not wanting to crush them, I picked them up and inspected them.
My dogs were off playing somewhere and I could hear distant voices. The canal pathway was empty though. The sounds of the water lapping against moored boats and the birds singing made for a pleasant background sound track.
I half wondered if that was why someone had abandoned their headphones. Had they suddenly decided that the song of nature was much more interesting then whatever they had been listening too?
That was a fleeting thought though. Why would anyone do that? Maybe the headphones had been stolen or just dropped?
I looked around, searching the rough ground that edged the canal path and the line of short trees that led off into the woods. There seemed to be nothing more.
I placed the headphones back down. Leaving them for someone else to find. My thoughts lingered though and I couldn’t help but think of someone taking the headphones off, dropping them and embracing the sweet sounds of nature.
Reformed lawyer. Preacher's kid. Unrepentant bibliophile. Aspiring author.
From the Realm of Royal Family
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Wrangling Literary Arts for Writers: Words for People!