January cold. I walked to the by-pass.  To the east the range of hills was clear yet dark. In the near distance a cluster of farm buildings glowed from the westering sun. Fields were freshly ploughed. A line of willows which follow a stream on their edge was golden in the evening light. Behind me, chill. Ahead, the light of a lengthening day. In old age I am aware of the chill. As I look back I understand and perceive  more of the dark. As I look forward and as I am now, I look to the light.

About lleweton

Long retired.
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2 Responses to Light

  1. Pooka says:

    There is a remarkable scent possessed by fresh-turned earth in the cold. It makes me think of warm days, somehow. Of mushrooms and leaves on cool summer evenings. Sort of a welcome hint of the balm of late spring, perhaps, when the sun has started assuming her reign over the weather. I seldom encounter it here on the southern west coast, but there have been times as I’ve travelled north that this good gift has been waiting.

    Your writing compels my memory quite often, Llew. Thank you. You should compile this stuff into a book of memories, in print.

  2. lleweton says:

    Many thanks Pooka. Strange – and lovely – what these random scents and echoes evoke. Yes, and thank you for the prod. I’ll start work on turning the blog into a book. Have done so today. Meanwhile, just out of a knee operation. Troublesome few months. Regards.

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