Do trees ever really die?

The moon has looked so gorgeous between 9:20 pm and 9:45. Each day lower and lower in the sky, as large as I can remember seeing it, at least since holidays in Cornwall one or more decades ago, the moon often smiling between the branches of ancient trees that seem so much more alive since my frequent visits to Narnia.  Old trees are abundant on my chosen route to work, and the hilly roads I walk beside are quite dark as a consequence…

There is a private street I cut through which still has old lampposts that emit peachy amber light. One household has a lamp in the front garden, which I never noticed before because it was not lit. One night, the white light was on and it was almost identical to the lamppost that was born in ‘The Magician’s Nephew’.

At seven in the morning, I start walking home from work and notice the birds singing, flying, rustling and covertly perched on branches as I have never noticed them before. There is a spot above a group of trees, where I look to the sky and more times than not catch the glimpse of a pre-rush-hour rainbow.  I say good morning to people, normally men or women with white or grey hair. They greet me back. Everything so delightfully English, dare I say British or Anglo-Irish? It’s like we know something important that everyone else has forgotten. It’s like being on holiday.

The holidays and excursions I remember as a child and as a much younger adult in Ireland, Cambridgeshire,  Cornwall, Norfolk, Isle of Wight, Southsea, Devon, Isle of Wight, Shropshire, Essex, Yorkshire and Brugge.

Something has changed. I’ve wised up a decade in only a handful of seasons.

Even cars don’t annoy me so much. Well,  walking to work in the late evening is a lot different than at rush hour times.

One very damp night last week, I witness the reflections of the car lights on the road surface. Some of the patterns painted were strangely very pleasing to the eye.

Where has my misery gone? I don’t think misery has played much of a part in my life for a long time, but it seems I’m only just noticing, unafraid, almost sure that being without large helpings of misery within is not a sign of impending mania, lunacy.

I’m going to properly learn to identify the species of each kind of tree that I come across on my short journeys to and from work. Identify the different birds. Note down where and when I see nightly frogs and foxes, and what appear to be bats. I wish so much to be able to hear an owl. All in the vicinity of a place that used to be home to a prisoner of war camp during the First World War.

I wasn’t expecting to write such things. I’ve not typed anything much for a while. This is probably dreadfully all over the place.

One damp September morning I went to my favourite local charitable shops. For £2.50 I bought copies of The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, with an introduction written by her in February 2017. Having read it, I wonder how different the introduction would be compared to one she might have written thirty years ago?

 

 

I am tempted to write a story about a church infiltrated by Marxism. About a nationwide health service dominated by inhuman ethics. Where, for any person still capable of thinking,  all hope is lost without. But hope eternal still shines brilliantly within. Secret house churches in Chinatown help keep the eternal flame lit. Breaking bread and sipping wine in a communal flat with Polish friends and night shift colleagues.

Plant-based euthanasia is the ‘optional’ norm for those pesky borderline disordered pensioners that will otherwise live too long, and be a carbon-negative drain on resources according to the green young-obsessed state legislators. The destruction of life as we know it, or rather knew it, has only caused the downtrodden masses to be stronger, at least it has away from the miserable and overpopulated cities full to the brim with faceless, frightened people.

The intermittent power cuts, and the lack of cell phone coverage, have reminded people in the country and the suburbs that it is not only important that we love our neighbours, but it is also essential to know our neighbours, help our neighbours, support our neighbours, protect them from the Hell that is always round the corner.

 

 

 

 

 

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