The sun had finally wrestled the rain, a sort of ha-ha jest of farewell but please come back. I could feel the hot release of this morning's dew as the plants exhlaed into green. I blinked and shaded my eyes for a moment and kept moving.
It was the last morning of our semi-annual "Escape the Bullfights" week in the country and we were walking, following a dirt track that might date back one thousand years or more. Kipling was far out ahead followed by Remi, then Ben trotting with his nose to the ground, then me. The usual family order.
Far along the path, so far as to have long ago stopped thinking of the packing up and the imminent return I was not yet ready for, we came upon an abandoned orchard - ancient, wizened and peaked. Spirals of bark lay in the grass exposing the trunks gone grey. I called out to Remi, "Do you think that it is really hopeless? Nothing could be done to save them?" "Oh no, they are dead. Look," he responded. And yet, further on, in the midst of such bleakness, one tree, one, had branches that were somehow still alive. Tiny rock-hard cherries dropped down from the leaves and swung trapeze-like in the breeze.
Today, back at my desk with headphones in my ears to block out the street noise, I am keeping the tree forefront in my mind. That, plus the symphony of birdsong that I rose to each morning. How they did sing! Both are forms of life pushing through with beauty. Unfortunately, my little iphone can't begin to capture the breadth and depth of sound nor the Cuckoo that kicked in just as I hit "stop." Such a wealth of human resources, isn't it? Human resourcing? I am well aware and grateful.
I had a really wonderful time - one 'quasiment sans internet', which was a good reprieve. Thank you for still being here and have a lovely weekend...