A walk on Blawith Common

Weather and circumstance have conspired recently to keep my walks short

but today I was out for hours.

And now I am weary, that lovely tiredness of the body;

heavy limbs and aching muscles

thankful for a day outside

in the sun and frost.

Mind relaxed, soul nourished

by the long views of the fells and the sea,

clear blue skies and the orange glow of bracken.

Lungs full of fresh air,

I’ll sleep well tonight.

Shivering

Freezing cold weather at the weekend + trainers + not enough layers = a miserable walk.

So I rushed back indoors and sat by the fire and dreamed (and steamed)

Then wrapped myself up and put on big boots and entered the icy world again.

This time I could enjoy being outdoors.

Reminding me of the quote

‘There is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.’ 

Landscapes of the soul

I went for a walk at the weekend in one of my favourite places in the world.  Through woods and along the shore of Lake Windermere.  

Walking for an hour or so, admiring the trees silhouetted against the silvery surface of the lake, late afternoon winter sunlight lighting up the trunks in shades of orange.  Ancient sweet chestnuts, deeply fissured bark spiraling upwards, the same trees where as a child I used to gather chestnuts with my grandparents.  Past the cathedral column trunks of huge Douglas fir, forest floor dotted with ferns.   And always the gentle background lapping of water on the shore, and the breeze in the trees

Walking through layers of memories, yet alive to the present moment; that leaf, that pattern of branches against the sky, the low angled sun on the root plate of a fallen tree.  

The sun set early, only a few weeks from the winter solstice.  Leaving behind a silvery sky to match the lake.  And the moon, rising above an old farmhouse, the smell of woodsmoke in the air.

Just an hour or so in a place I love.  Sustenance for the whole week.  

The power of place. 

A landscape of the soul.