Gerry
12-23-2007, 05:04 PM
It was fine going up the hill with the bright sun to my back. It brought loads of colours to life and rather than the dreary wet blacks and browns the hedgerows are full of fawns and ambers with the odd flash of luscious red or juicy purple in the fruits still to be cropped by the birds.
The fields are saturated with the rain and the gentle stream running down the side of the road could power a mill in full production as it thunders down to the river below. The few horses standing forlornly in the sodden meadow have their tatty canvas wraps on to protect them from the worst of the heavy rain but they are standing with their tails swishing close to the hedge and that's a sure sign we have worse on it's way.
There's just no chance of going into that part of the wood today despite Toby's pleading eyes. Those brown fallen leaves are just a crust on the bog hidden below just waiting to suck me down if I dare to tread. It's OK for him to come home stinking and clabbered up to the eyes in mud. He doesn't have to listen to her.
But the sun is so low in the sky this morning and there's no clouds to help shield my eyes as it tries to burn into my brain. Funny how it can be just so brilliantly bright yet feel so cold, icy cold, cold that penetrates your very bones making them ache. The beads of sweat running down my back having dripped from my wet hair feel icy cold, cutting deep into my flesh as they descend.
The Christmas lights on all the trees as we approach home look strange and dead their leads criss crossing the colourful branches but their sparkle yet to be ignited.
But let's not seek the darkness.
It'll come soon enough and too soon for many as the shortest day comes to a close.
By Gerry Temple
The fields are saturated with the rain and the gentle stream running down the side of the road could power a mill in full production as it thunders down to the river below. The few horses standing forlornly in the sodden meadow have their tatty canvas wraps on to protect them from the worst of the heavy rain but they are standing with their tails swishing close to the hedge and that's a sure sign we have worse on it's way.
There's just no chance of going into that part of the wood today despite Toby's pleading eyes. Those brown fallen leaves are just a crust on the bog hidden below just waiting to suck me down if I dare to tread. It's OK for him to come home stinking and clabbered up to the eyes in mud. He doesn't have to listen to her.
But the sun is so low in the sky this morning and there's no clouds to help shield my eyes as it tries to burn into my brain. Funny how it can be just so brilliantly bright yet feel so cold, icy cold, cold that penetrates your very bones making them ache. The beads of sweat running down my back having dripped from my wet hair feel icy cold, cutting deep into my flesh as they descend.
The Christmas lights on all the trees as we approach home look strange and dead their leads criss crossing the colourful branches but their sparkle yet to be ignited.
But let's not seek the darkness.
It'll come soon enough and too soon for many as the shortest day comes to a close.
By Gerry Temple