Today has been one of low grey clouds, a total absence of the sun,with rain. It has made for a totally miserable day - even the afternoon walk with the dog failed to raise my spirits. And more mud has been created through- out the day. I feel engaged in a battle with mud - mud on the dogs paws, on the kitchen floor, on all our coats, on the chicken's feet, mud mud everywhere. It brings to mind Jacqueline Winspear's books that talk of life in WW1 trenches & on battle fields - I find it utterly astonishing that anyone survived anytime at all in those trenches
http://www.jacquelinewinspear.com/maisie_dobbs_world.htm. Mud saps my life-force even at a"once remove"- it is out-doors & off my skin. Perhaps it is to do with an excess of earthiness - an attempt by some hostile force to subdue by envelopment - like a mammoth in tar or a wild pig in quick sand.
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In contrast this evening's walk with the dog was uplifting - i found even the puddles on the road reflecting street light pretty. I walked with the dog in a small orchard, braving the mud, looking up at the stars - meeting up again with friends. It seems ages since I have felt inclined to stand still & look up at the stars. For too long it has been a case of hat on, head-down & keep moving - get the walk done as quickly as possible, get back inside by the fire. Small ponies wander amongst the apple trees, they move quietly - a warm, solid presence. I've noticed that in the dark a horse's muzzle feels softer, more velvety than by daylight - ultra-sensitive, like cat's whiskers. Tonight the trees are awake - perhaps it is the twinkling starlight. Last night I saw a partial moon, a huge silvery shape hanging in the darkness surrounded by grey shifting clouds - no moon tonight. Some days & nights the orchard is just an orchard, a small stand of trees that grow blossom, leaves & fruit. On other occasions, the air is thicker amongst the trees, sounds muffled, the night darker. Then I feel no inclination to linger or make my presence know - I act as a respectful visitor just passing through. It's a few weeks away from the longest night, the winter equinox, & a little further from Wassailing time, perhaps the seasonal spirits are gathering in readiness for celebrations. C. S. Lewis created a memorable "heavy" atmosphere in the "wood between worlds" that always comes to mind when I walk through orchards: never when a in wood though, these are never heavy or sleepy. The "The Magicians Nephew" is one of my favourites in the Narnia series.
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