I left it with her beneath the sycamore and amidst the ramsons. My own invisible but no less heavy bag of questions. Huge life changing questions, fears, worries and anxieties.
I sat for some time under the new leaves. As the light trickled through it reflected a green tinge onto my pale skin and I was reminded of where I truly come from and where one day I will return.
So often I sit here and witness nature forfeit a tiny bit of its secrecy. Only to swallow it up with a passing dog walker or when I can no longer feel my hands and make that reluctant decision to move on. Today however was quiet in comparison. No rustling mice or fearless jays. Just a wren calling from deep within the thorny bush.
So I took my leave and gently made my way through the wood. Starry carpets of ramsons seem to travel on forever if it wasn't for the occasional bluebell breaking the mirage. I spent time noticing but probably seeing nothing as is so often the way with us humans.
I could smell something out of place and it wasn't long before I discovered the remains of a fire. Sweet wrappers lay garishly amongst trampled garlic. Bacon packets with unidentifiable gunk had introduced our hardworking bugs to fast food. I almost laughed when I found scorched exploded cans of deodorant with powerful names like 'strength' strange names for something now diseasing our mighty land. I could not walk by and imagine the creatures of our night stumbling upon this hazardous filth.
I found a tattered old sack and a piece of rope to fashion a bag, the only piece of litter not available. I picked my way around the debris and within ten minutes I had filled my makeshift bag.
Weaving my way out of the wood I told myself not to be disheartened. Every small act helps and nature will appreciate it. Then within a fleeting magical moment I saw a sparrowhawk flash past. A first for my birdwatching book with a smile painted on my face a blue trinket caught my eye. On a mossy mound next to my feet lay a broken eggshell, perfectly placed.
What a gift! for just a few minutes of my time nature has gifted me not a broken shell but the symbolism of new beginnings and potential. A birds most precious possession. I said thankyou and was instantly answered by the fluting song of a thrush.
I left today holding that shell knowing that my worries had been heard. I realised then that I had been given a second gift. My invisible bag of worries I had arrived with had become something real, this ugly blue sack in my hand was very much visible and could now be disposed of....after sorting it for recycling of course.
Author - Lucy
A painter & needle sculptor creating creatures with a tale to tell and a song in their heart.