One of the Many Days

Autumn is here. It was dark coming back from Brownies with Little Owl and her friend last night. Black clouds scudded across the sky. I was hustled and bustled by the wind on my bike this morning. One minute I was shooting forward as if an unseen hand had given me a good shove, the next I seemed to be completely stationary, no matter how hard I pedaled. A bat accompanied me part of the way, its flight even more frenetic than usual, obviously a thrill-seeker. It is mostly dark in the mornings now, the thin grey dawn only appearing as I tip the latch on the gate to come back in.

At the weekend we headed out for a walk and it felt as if every hedgerow and tree were heralding the change of season. Climbing up thicket-tunnel paths there were rose hips, blackberries, and fungi aplenty. Emerging onto an orchard-covered hill, the trees were heavy with the apple harvest. There are acres of orchards on that hill, given wind protection by rows of poplars who confettied us with golden leaves. On the return leg Little Owl and Finch raced around collecting conkers and acorns, while I distracted Wren from wanting out of the baby carrier by dangling bunches of rowanberries just out of reach.  It put me in mind of that lovely phrase from the poem One of the Many Days by Norman MacCaig…

“I watched

a whole long day

release its miracles.”