You Like To Walk? Then Come Walk With Me!

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Several of you have been at me to start another “walk”, so as the weather is not quite good enough yet to go where I like to, and the path is rutted, muddy and slippery, I've decided to write discussions in three or four parts, based on one walk. The reason for this is that it will enable me to be more specific at certain points and hopefully make the walk more enjoyable, with more time for reflection. So relax and enjoy! Part 1 Imagine it's a balmy summer evening, in July, you've eaten your dinner and we've decided to go for a walk. It's been a glorious day, we've been working away on our computers and now we need to get out and be at one with nature and our surroundings. So, get your walking shoes on, and let's set off. As we leave the house, the birds can be heard chirping merrily in the trees before the sun sets and dusk starts to arrive. There is little traffic about because everybody is home from work and relaxing. So, we walk on down the Street, past the pub, where we can hear laughter, music and chatter going on through the open door, and in the garden, where people sit idly supping their beer and enjoying some social time with their friends. As we venture on down the road, a white chicken comes fluttering and clucking out from the driveway of the big house opposite, and crosses the road in front of us, followed closely by the brown cockerel, with proud red comb, wobbling as he chases behind. They disappear into the lane as we go on to the bottom of the street. In the distance, we see the dusky green of the South Downs standing majestically between the Sussex Weald and the Coast, and as we gaze in their direction, a hot air balloon comes into view; then another, gently gliding across the blue, evening sky. We hear and see the occasional flame of the hot air gun, as they pass in front of us, on their journey. We turn to the left, and pass the Village sign, which depicts eight bells and the church lychgate, as we make our way along the main road, and past the garden centre. Crossing the road, we come upon the big, aluminium gate to the wheat field, beside which there is a stye, that we need to squeeze through. It's a bit narrow, but we'll make it. All through, we continue up the pathway at the side of the field, the woods on our left; the sound of the light evening breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. Squirrels scurry up the trees on feeling our footsteps vibrating on the earth, and rabbits dive for woodland cover from amongst the now tall wheat which they've been stripping back with their buck teeth. Suddenly, we notice out of the corner of our eyes, a very still statue of an animal... in the distance, at the bottom of the field, a deer, who isn't sure whether he should stay still or run for cover, so he keeps a watchful eye on us, whilst he waits his moment to bound off into the woods. At the bottom of the field, we go through another gateway, onto the footpath through the woods. There is no longer a gate here but the posts still stand either side. It's quiet and somewhat of a relief from the sun's rays, as we walk into the woods. A few yards, and we come upon a circular clearing with a copse of hazels on one side, oaks and beech on the other. One tall oak still stands despite having been struck by lightning years ago, so strong is this King of he Forest. There's a hazel stump to the right of the circle where I often sit and gather my thoughts, feeling the energies that lie in the woods. We pass this, and go back onto the narrower footpath, which is carpeted with soft, dead leaves, making our steps silent. In a couple of minutes we can hear tumbling water, playing like music in our ears, and the first millpond comes into view. Fishermen sit around the pond, silently fishing and dozing at the same time, as we walk onto one of the landing stages to admire the view. Swans used to nest on the island of reeds in this pond, returning every year until one fateful day, the male died, tangled in some wire. The female was so distressed that after desperately calling for her mate, she left the unhatched eggs in the nest and flew... who knows where. A year later, she returned, and I saw her crying... yes crying, it was an awful sound... and frantically wrecking the nest she had left previously. After a while, she had flown... never to return. Swans tend to take a mate for life, and she had no reason to ever come back with her mate gone. That was a sad, sad day. As we stand at the edge of the pond, we see fish popping up, grabbing the insects which are hovering just above water level in their jaws, and diving back down into the water. There's a flash from the trees to the right, above the rhododendron bushes, as a kingfisher dives into the pond and swiftly takes his prey, his beautiful turquoise feathers glistening in the evening sunlight, as the sun slowly sinks in the west. We take a few deep breaths, and absorb the sounds of nature which are around us, have a quick chat with a wakening fisherman who has been alerted of a bite, and watch him reel in his catch. Take in the moment, imagine the scene and we'll rest awhile, resuming our walk again after we've memorised this image. What will you do during your rest time? Will you take photographs of special moments, or will you just use this time to stand and quietly watch nature unfold? Maybe you'll venture round the other side of the pond, amongst the rhododendrons, admiring the wildlife there? Tell me what you see and how you feel, and ask me any questions you wish. :)