On Absentees and Distant Prospects.

I took another walk in the sunshine this evening and went a different way than usual. Up the lane this time, up to where the little wood on the left always calls to me, and the big plantation sitting on the lea to the right always watches me, and the Harry Potter wood opposite the top of the lane exudes its tantalising hint of mystery.

But I saw a sad sight. A single swallow was hunting food over a nearby field; just one. By this time of year the swallows have finished their breeding activities and the young are now fully grown and hunting with the adults. And so there should be twenty, thirty, forty swallows; not one. That's how many there used to be. Where are they now, and will they soon stop visiting at all?

And then I came to the farmer’s gate which offers a panoramic view across the river valley and beyond, and noticed again how different the landscape looks in the evening compared with the view I usually have in the late morning. The shadows and the sunlight strike different parts of it, you see, and so it’s like seeing it all afresh.

It seems that life still offers new pleasures for the enjoyment of those so minded, for the time being at least.

This afternoon I noticed that the clematis fronds on top of my garden shed are growing prolifically, and that augurs a good show of flowers next spring. But what a distant and uncertain prospect that seems these days. The times they are a-changing as times always have.