The evening was dry after torrential rain and the wind blew through the trees and across the lake hard. Almost it gave the effect of a tidal inlet from a stormy sea. It bent the tall Bistort plants that send up slender flowers from a sparkling green rosette of leaves. The flower resembles a mauve bottlebrush in miniature. The bluebells are retreating from ascendancy back into the earth once more. Their metallic blue carpets now fading to a dusky pink underneath the onslaught of the tall grasses and bracken that now crowd the woodland floor. Already some throw mouse tails and feathery seed stem’s into the evening air and let the wind sway them. All is so green and vital and the sunlight plays upon the earth like a blessing making dappled stepping stones for my feet to follow and I for my part danced on them all. Just as the pied wagtail hops from stone to stone along the stream bed that winds down among the larches. I became entranced as it moved along the watercourse with it is long, slender tail rising and falling like some feathered metronome. A rhythm for my steps… for my heart is light and matches the breeze in speed and fresh thoughts. I am blown clean by the cool air and the world feels good tonight. Goslings now the size of small chickens with downy russet and lemon bodies congregate at the water’s edge close to their hissing protective elders. The evening is perfect under a blue sky hung with heavy white cumulus clouds tinged with a grey edging; it feels warmer as the intermittent rays of the sun come forth to warm me. A walk of joy tinged with the only sadness that you were not here to share it and that it should have to end. For sometimes it seems hard to stop and leave the world alone.