I left the house 9 15am heavy grey clouds and slight dampness hung in the air. Because of the torrential rain I decided to walk the lane way to Gelligaer Common instead of the meadow. As I approached the cattle grid I noticed the swifts have left the wire of anticipation have warmed up and left for Africa. The liquid sound of the sky lark and gold finches darting about. A pair of woodpeckers tattoo together then they see me and scatter. Berries have come out to stare. Elderberries, early sloes, juicy blackberries lush red rose hips and crab apples hang like baubles. My foragers basket of plenty.
As I carry on with my journey I see a red kite set sail above me. I look to the ancient dry stone wall. This wall inspired my poem “Last Breath (Ianto)” line from the poem
“Mapped blue veined hands hold onto the dry stone wall adding coldness to his already stiff fingers. Goes back to the past where his mind is more familiar”
I noticed a lot of dead frogs too their life been squeezed out from them flattened to the tarmac.
Autumn is my favourite season many years ago I was not well and was waiting on test results and my immediate thought was will I ever see autumn again. I have seen 23 autumns since
My poem Autumn which is in my latest collection
called Healing Garden ISBN 978-1-5237-2481-9
The autumn sun shines
away the mist and dew.
Dropped tawny apples
crushed crunched crab apples.
Red fruit of the mountain ash
hue purple sloes on the black thorn.
Blackberries entangled in their bramble bed.
Leaves changing their colours
from green golden red and brown.
Falling and disappearing into the ground
are acorns and hazel nuts.
Squirrel scurry for its store stops stares
then darts away once more.
Swifts perched watching waiting
on the wire of anticipation.
Crows gather in a dynamic display
then leave in a feathery cascade.
Night time comes early for Halloween and ghost stories.
Nature’s back is turned against the north wind
as it slowly hides away
bolting the door on summer.
poem written by Julie Pritchard 2015
I make my way up steep hill towards the common here silence is wonderful to listen too. I look back to the green tunnel of tranquility I let out a happy sigh. Lane walking is therapeutic and is very good for the soul.