Friday, September 06, 2019


When we lived in Sheffield, and the family member who declines to be named went back to school in September, I would cycle up to the Mayfield Valley (the beginning of the Peak District) and pick blackberries. It was a marker, the beginning of a new chapter.

Yesterday I was getting ready for my sister visiting, and was cleaning. I HATE cleaning. I got to a point when there was still much to do but I couldn't stand it any longer. It was a fine blustery day, so I got on my bike and cycled up the Monsal Trail. It was the end of the afternoon so there were very few people about. In any case, the summer holiday crowds were gone. It was heavenly. 

The margins of the Trail were edged with dried leaves, and the wind was chilly enough to require an extra layer of clothing, and it was clear the autumn had arrived. Surprisingly, I didn't feel wistful. I relished it, but not because I want the summer to end or that I like the autumn. It was rather that I felt overtaken and embraced by the natural world and it's unstoppable, overarching 'plan.' With all the tumultuous politics going on right now - down there in London -  it was refreshing and comforting to be in a space where none of that was relevant - at least for two hours. I relished the breeze, the clouds, the sunshine, the shadows in the valley, the open views - it was magical. I came back on a high. 

I love living here.

No comments: