The dominie ...

Just before Bowden, we walked across a silky meadow - 

I saw where our footsteps had pressed down the bright grass - 

Bees hummed above buttercups and the white clover flowers - 

Turning round, I could see the Eildon Hills  - 

We lingered for a while in the lonely village - 

It was late morning - we saw no one - 

Attached to a dour wall was a memorial for the dominie - 

I pictured the children at their desks, the dominie in his black garb, standing next to a globe - 

Perhaps, from time to time, he would look out the schoolroom windows, his pale skin made golden by the sun - 

Thursday July 2 2015

Bowden

The Scottish Borders

Beeches and dreams of the wildwood ...

Our path took us down the southern slopes of the Eildon Hills - 

On the hilltop, we'd seen the shadows of clouds pass over the ancient land - a cold wind had blown against our faces - 

Now we walked through a deep wood - the air was still and warm - the broad path was spangled with bright sunlight - 

Noble beech trees had seen many winters - they rose up from the sweet earth towards heaven - 

Birds sang in the shining greenery - 

I thought of the wildwood, and how it might return, quietening the cities, quickening legends - 

We would lay our heads to sleep upon fallen leaves, dream the dreams of trees - 

Thursday July 2 2015

Southern slopes of the Eildon Hills

Waymarks ...

Waymarks guided us across hill tops brushed by clouds, through pine woods where dark birds slept - 

Penelope was our navigator, casting her eye over map and landscape, reading sky and tide - 

Our first steps were up a hillside, each step in the shade of summer leaf - 

Melrose Abbey lay below us, roofed with air, swifts flying through the nave like arrows from heaven - 

Our last steps were upon the Pilgrim's Path, our bare feet washed by the forgiving sea -

July 2 - 9 2015

St Cuthbert's Way

My dad takes a Dextrose tablet ...

Anne's just given my dad a Dextrose tablet - 

Take it or I'll call the ambulance she said - 

When we got back from Waitrose, we found my dad holding his head in his hands - 

He had too many bumpers of Pujalet at lunchtime - 

Wine's like lemonade he says - a little glass doesn't harm you - 

For the sick and for the aged my dad starts singing - for our dear ones far away - 

16.15

Monday 10 August 2015

Staunton Road

Havant 

Up here it can be wild ...

I'd seen the Eilden Hills from my attic window in The Old Grocery - 

Now I stood with Martin on Eilden Mid Hill, high above the ancient town - 

We spoke to a lean walker upon the summit - my heart was pounding from the climb - a cold wind blew over the borderland - dark clouds shrouded bare hill tops - valleys were rich quilts of fields -   

Did you see the lightning last night? the walker asked - I was in Galashiels - I wouldn't have liked to have been up here on the hills last night - 

He pointed eastwards - on a clear day you can see the coast he said - 

Martin lifted up his binocculars - 

Far below us, Alyson and Penelope rested amidst the heather - 

The walker's bare legs were brown and knotted - 

Up here it can be wild he said - 

Thursday 2 July 2015

Eilden Mid Hill 

Eilden Hills 

Scotland 

 

Swimming in Worbarrow Bay ...

Today, I walked with Penelope from Tyneham to Flowers Barrow - 

Modest butterflies settled upon thistle flowers -

They're Lulworth Skippers Penelope said - 

We walked under a flawless summer sky - a small plane flew across the blueness -  

Below us, waves broke at the foot of the chalk cliffs - 

Flowers Barrow was a broken crown of turf -

Deep memory was all around us - 

Later, I swam in Worbarrow Bay - 

Penelope sat next to my clothes on the beach - 

A white yacht was anchored close to the shore - 

We could still see the moon in the sky, suspended over the turquoise sea -

11.00

Saturday 8 August 2015

Flowers Barrow

Worbarrow Bay

Dorset

 

Anne's rewound the clocks ...

I'm sitting in Beth's garden - 

Bright sunshine warms the emptied house - 

Anne's on the phone to Tessa - 

We're waiting for the men from the charity shop she says - 

Cardboard boxes are heaped up in the lounge - 

We've packed away a life - 

A few moments ago, I found the itinerary of Beth's jaunt to India and Nepal - 

My spirits lifted - 

I imagined Beth, in the dancing aircraft, peering out the window at Mount Everest -  

There she was, sipping chai in Kathmandu, getting ready to go on a sunset tour to Kakani - 

There would always be those golden days, I thought - the pilgrimage to Lourdes - time ashore in Suva - 

Anne's rewound the clocks - 

Their chimes evoke memories like a soft wind stirring fallen leaves - 

12.55

Friday 7 August 2015

Beth's house 

Wincanton