From Dawn till Dusk

It is hard to express my relief and sheer joy in the first real days of warmth and light. I often joke that I don't get out much - but it is true, possibly unusually so in this day and age. Winter in the country - carless and with a pitifully poor bus service - can be trying, especially long ones where I may not venture out for days on end. Most of the time I am happy working away in my studio, muffled to the eyeballs in various jumpers, socks and beanies (should that be beany? I only wear one...) but it has been a long, tedious season. Yesterday I headed out for my morning walk caressed by gentle fingers of Spring breezes, intoxicated by the gorgeous wafts of rapeseed blossom - a smell which will always signify Oxfordshire summers to me.

This is the start of my regular walk - whatever is happening in my life, my heart lifts when I see these fields spreading out before me and all around me I can look across the Cotswolds, spreading gently towards the West country.

Now, look beyond the first field, past the sliver of the next green meadow and further, to the next crop of rapeseed...

...there we are, the path gently rising and onwards to the top farm. My little 3 mile walk is usually uneventful, save for the small pleasures which enchant any nature lover.




But it was enough to be warm, and on returning home, to be able to sit in a sun-soaked garden, designing new toys with writhing cats about my feet and sprightly seedlings basking in the heat. And so it has always been.

The Cuckoo Song (c 1250. anonymous)

Sumer is icumen in,
Loude sing cuckou!
Groweth seed and bloweth med,
And springth the wude nuw.

Summer is a-coming in,
Loudly sing cuckoo!
Seed grows and meadows bloom
And the wood grows anew.

There is a full version of both the Middle English and a modern translation, complete with recording of the tune here (do turn your speakers on, it starts up as soon as you get there, and yes, it was featured in the Wicker Man).

So giddy was I with the delights of the first Summer's day, I dragged Andy out to the woods that evening. I had forgotten how much I adore dusk - the halfway house between day and night, full of quiet and transference. The bluebells are still in full bloom and at this hour of the evening were nodding drowsily, drenching the air with sleepy perfumed sighs.




The woodland birds were putting the world to bed with a jubilant chorus and we startled a little trio of Muntjack deer. Although only knee-high - about the size of a small dog - they have a fearsome 'bark'. If you didn't know what it was, you would be quite alarmed. Listen to this exchange, with the birdsong warbling away in the background.

No, it is only trees you can see, despite my best efforts they evaded my camera.

Anxious sheep called their straying lambs and the red sun sunk below the darkening trees. We missed our turning and ended up in the boggy corner. As we headed homewards, a slender sickle moon rose above the horizon, bobbing sweetly across the night sky.

Now the day is over,
Night is drawing nigh,
Shadows of the evening
Steal across the sky.

Now the darkness gathers,
Stars begin to peep,
Birds, and beasts and flowers
Soon will be asleep.