So today I decided to go and do some exploring of the housing estate where I now live, and I found a lovely place. I walked down to the end of the street, and saw that there was an empty space at the end. At first I thought it might be a road or a park, but I actually found a field. Maybe only people from the countryside can really appreciate a field., but the grass was uncut, and there were trees down the end. The old kind. (Pictures at the end of the post – I want to try and paint a picture before you see an actual one)
First I planned on just walking around the field and seeing if it led anywhere, as I couldn’t see what was at the end, but then I noticed there was a trodden down path through the grass leading towards the trees. So I took it. . When the trees came into view I realised the path led into them through a little arch of branches. At first I was just going to walk to the arch and peer through. The thoughts of what happens to those who wander in the woods was clear in my mind. Little red riding hood (and Carol Ann Duffy’s version of her), Harry Potter getting caught by snatchers, and perhaps more maturely Tess from Tess of the d’urbilles and her unfortunate experience. But when I got to the arch there was a pathway leading to a rickety looking bridge. Ok, it wasn’t really rickety at all, it was fairly sturdy, but rickety sounds more romantic.
Bridges mean water, and running water and its pull are perhaps again something only people from the countryside can appreciate fully. The trees were also not too dense, so it wasn’t dark, and on this basis, I went in. And I was welcomed by the gush of trickling water and the smell of mud. There were trees growing right by the water, so their roots were bare at the top of the bank. I stood there a while, absorbing the view and pondering how the three golf balls at the bottom of the stream had come to be there. Then, as I had gone that far, I carried on wandering through the woods. You really have to get your timing right when you go into the woods. If you go in winter the branches are bare and its spooky. Too hot and you can only think of the stream as something to drink, while being annoyed at those little black flies hovering around. My timing, then, was perfect. I didn’t go too far in, so didn’t run the risk of getting lost, and left again after about 20 minutes, feeling much better than when I had gone in.
Some girls shop. Me? Walking and exploring are my therapies, reading and writing my escapes. I know many of you will understand this feeling, as in a way this is a place of kindred spirits. You all enjoy writing and probably reading. In the real world though (even though the internet is now so integrated that the real world and that of the internet are no longer so easily separated) people don’t always understand this joy. They assume that these things are the things that people did in the olden days. Or that these are things that only characters in books do. (Which makes it slightly worrying as if a character went wandering in the woods marvelling at the beauty of the autumn countryside it would probably be to show their innocence and naivety).
Anyway, despite what it may say about my character, it made me feel a lot better, and on my way back I saw the prettiest thing. If you remember, I had to cross a field to get to the woods. Well someones garden backed right onto the field and they had a lovely wrought iron gate backing onto the field, with a rose bush beside it with only one pink rose left on the bush.
It’s the little things.
So all in all I’m glad I took the road not taken. I’m glad I can find joy in little things, and perhaps more importantly that I can still find joy in nature, and that I’m not entirely materialistic.Let me know the places you feel most comfortable, or perhaps the places you didn’t intend to visit and are really glad that you did. As always, thanks for reading, and I will be back to report my newest adventures next week.