Poney, cat, hammock and me

Poney, cat, hammock and me

Poney's field seems so parched. Her ruminant 'ovis aries' friends and she have eaten all the fruit and leaves that were accessible and now eye the plum and poplar trees on our side of the fence. I feed the French poney prunes that were plums but two days ago, for in this heat they have shrivelled to quite an edible state having fallen on the lawn. Cat comes to the wired fence and sniffs at poney as she bends her head to greet cat but cat pulls back even though the fence is in between. Cat is sensible. Friends cannot always be trusted

Poney is intrigued as I attempt to lay in the hammock under a cloudless sky as stars slowly make their appearance at 10 o'clock at night. She stamps her hooves on the ground and whinnies to gain my further attention but lulled by the rocking of the hammock I push my foot against the floor to rock some more. I close my eyes as the cat pummels amd whiggles and snuggles up to me. Opening my eyes I see a falling star and wish quickly a wish. Poney still watches cat and me in communion. A poney cannot snuggle up in a hammock with a human being. I would rather have a cat than a poney!

Songs of crickets fill the air and whilst I sing a lullaby I am thinking that it would be nice to be here throughout the night. However, I realise the warm air has a chill about it and think too soon thank goodness those dogs are not baying. An owl is heard: tu toooooooooo repeatedly. Separately a strange sound never heard before flies across the night unidentified. Then those wretched killing dogs start up. Other dogs of neighbours have also been barking from time to time but nothing like these kennel hounds.

Cat is alert and disappears to investigate some 'thing' unheard by me and then returns all warmth and furry friend that she is.

I want to stay but these story words are in my head. I think of fetching the sleeping bag… the sleeping sack ... and staying there all night under the stars. Oh, lazy mortal am I. Oh the creature comforts that I seek.

It was like this about the same time last year…a hot evening brought about by stunning daytime sunshine. Oh, how I love it… and need it… to bring warmth to my soul. Earlier in the evening I had managed to rescue plums fallen on the ground all at once, (some had been boiling on the ground in the sunshine), gather wallflower seeds, weed part of the gravel drive, iron linen from the line, sit and eat a simple meal of haricot verts in tomato sauce with cheese on top, boiled eggs in mayonnaise and fried wholemeal bread with mint leaves chopped and sprinkled on top, followed by Reine Claude plums gifted by a neighbour.

I love August in France.

I love the poney, the hammock, the cat and just sometimes like this evening I feel positive about 'me' but nearly not often enough! I have loved being alive today.

AFTERNOTE:

It stormed with lightning and thunder and at one point as the storm was immediately overhead the lightning and thunder almost simultaneous, I quickly sat upright as adrenaline kicked in. I am not afraid of storms but the fierce loud bang and bright clap of light makes one jump!

Good job I was not in the hammock!

More poeticism

Written some while ago, another poetical moment:

Homage to sheep, stones and solitariness.

Sheep are like Stones….except that the latter do not move.

‘Twixt sunrise and sunset one can almost meditate whilst observing these herbivores grazing on the grass in fields and one thinks that their movement is imperceptible.

Let one’s mind drift, look away or dream, and look again and one becomes aware that they have all changed places, surreptiously. However if sheep feel threatened or intimidated by a clap of the hands for example they bleat furiously and run ensemble.

Eating machines are what sheep are… unlike stones in walls and stones in fields that existing since creation perhaps have not moved far from their original place over thousands, nay million, billions, trillions of years.

A sheep born as a humble lamb soon learns to get on its feet to avoid danger, to move on and to eat.

Does luck come into it if it should it be killed as a lamb or as mutton? This does not seem to worry me anymore as I gave up being a vegan and vegetarian of over 23 years.

I climb upon the wall, the dry stone wall, over one metre high.

I could not have done this five years ago!

How wonderful to have such a commanding view over sheep and stones.

I am as strong as this blade of grass… oh drat, it has bent a few centimetres from my thumb. Breaking it off, again it stands tall and strong again. I will not weaken as before, I say!

I stand in this seemingly special place that I have learned… yes learned to love, this wilderness where one hardly ever sees a soul except of the woolly variety.

I have been back in France for less than 24 hours. It is now twilight as I overlook the barren sprawl of countryside, the trees … and SHEEP .. or are they STONES?

I stand up high on this stone wall with a view, up and down the lane before me. Behind me in another field are more sheep and their friendly poney and beyond to the west are the layers of sunset rays, amidst the darkening blue skies and streaking, fluffy-white darkening clouds.

Oh, marvellous moment to remember, this exquisitely warm evening when cities are far away, as I stand here solitary in wild, deserted countryside…not a soul to be seen, save sheep and stones... alone in France, with beloved England far away... as all souls are always all alone.

Waxing Lyrical - and not sanding down

The River Anglin

In the August shade I sit solitary against a tree trunk.

Summer into Autumn, roots bare and brown writhe like snakes upon solid brown earth on this Isle of L’Anglin.

When Winter comes tree roots will be submerged beneath the surging waters moving from higher to lower levels.

Tall poplars, their leaves mirrored in the looking glass create a meditational water garden wavering constantly and continuously.  Diamonds grow like deep dark glossy jewels on the surface of the water as ripples meet ripples, to and fro, from bank to bank.

Lilypads on the quieter side of this isle invite demoiselles and dragonflies to flit in a different garden of delight.

Willow weeps and wails, whilst a dozen ducks without drakes form a flotilla floating downstream.

Quiet voices, peaceful movement, disturb the potential silence of tranquillity as they prepare for the fête.

An artist’s heaven, a writer’s haven, a beautiful work of art, a public garden.   I long to stay.

 

 

 

Angles sur L'Anglin - an exquisitely beautiful village

Angles sur L'Anglin is an exquisitely beautiful French village. I am not sure what providence will bring. Perhaps those who wish to be kept in touch with this beautiful landscape of France can understand some reasons why seven years ago we sought a house in this particular village but were led to a pretty fermette. There have been continuing contacts in Angles sur L'Anglin. We missed many opportunities as houses were not advertised where we were looking or indeed if advertised at all. We saw several that weren't able to meet our needs or terribly overpriced. I jumped at this opportunity. A website is prepared. Some bloggings are being created. The course of life and subsequent computer problems have prevented progress as I try to find solutions to unexpected "angles" on house renovation. Village de Vaux continues.

Creativity of Text and Image

Creativity for blog text and image publishing appears to have taken a back-step as different styles of writing are produced - sometimes on paper to be kept for a little while and sometimes on paper that is screwed into a ball to reach the fire and burnt to ashes, sometimes as a poem and sometimes as a story or sometimes as letters, mostly as just a letter to myself.

Iphoto seems to not be working despite technological help from Apple so I need to contact them again so that I can download whatever images are stored on the camera.

"Entre les deux" ... that's me at the moment ... trying step by step to do what needs to be done in home ownership .. instead of being overwhelmed by the daily minutiae of life's unexpected little surprises!

One would have thought that with all my practice of searching for a house to buy I would have spotted the house renovation requirements ... but No ... and oH .. there is so much to do and to comprehend with practical aspects and restrictions that I seem to have lost the urge to write in the manner that is being produced here right at this moment in time.

I am sure it will return. Of course, I do it for me and not for anyone out there in the beautiful world of bloggers, BUT it has been nice to know that some people have actually read and even been interested in this potentially " normal" human being inside my shell.

I can be STILL .. ACTIVE .. REFLECTIVE .. LAZY .. TIRED .. STRUGGLING .. ANIMATED .. ENTHUSIASTIC .. LACKING POSITIVITY .. EMBARASSED .. ASHAMED .. OVERJOYED ..OVERWHELMED .. SAD .. HAPPY .. and so many other conditions of JUST BEING that appear to fluctuate seemingly incessantly .. coming and going... as I wait for each 'pas a pas' and 'step by step' to tell me what to do. And increasingly I know of people who are unwell and I think that whatever happens I have my health ..and it is evident that life should be celebrated and not reduced to negativity, inner injury and tears.

With regard to the house .. my very own house .. it feels like a kind of secret .. I have had a range of unexpected feelings - trepidation, fear, anxiety, excitement, energy, enthusiasm, a kind of shame and embarassment about how much rubbish has been required to reach the décheterrie (the recycling yard), and also stillness and calm, as I try to understand how the house wants to be looked after. I am feeling quite content there .. as I listen to the silence and the sounds within and without the stone walls and imagine times gone before and times to come.

I am enjoying 'le chaleur' et 'l'ombre' - at least 29 degrees celsius today, which I really cannot get enough of because it makes me feel HUMAN and NORMAL I watch the harvest coming in and see the bare, exposed fields with the crows or rooks cawing cavernously, making me nervous about Winter. BUT to think positively Sweetpea, the Autumn is yet to come and she who loves the colours, smells, mists and moistiness, she enjoys October.

On a practical note I am feeling more optimistic .... and I have to plan ... I have a lot to plan even when planning makes no difference and I have much to do.

So that is where the energy goes... I will return maybe on a different path soon.