Today's Ruminations on Damage, Death, and Connections.

When I went for my morning walk today I was pleased to see only one tree which had suffered major damage from last night’s storm. Maybe I was just lucky in not passing any felled ones. Being both fond and respectful of trees, it troubles me to a surprising degree to see one uprooted and lying on the ground.

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But what of the squirrel? The field boundary hedge on the opposite side of the lane from my garden was not trimmed last autumn, and so it has 3-4ft of bare growth sitting on top of its optimum level. Lying within it a few yards from my gate was a squirrel, obviously dead. I asked myself how it had got up there and how it had died. I could see no way that the storm could have been responsible, and so I assumed it had been hit and injured by a vehicle, and that instinct had caused it to seek higher, safer ground before it expired. That was what made it rather more poignant than the usual sight of a squashed road kill. And yesterday there was a dead mole, seemingly uninjured, lying in my gateway. Maybe it’s just that kind of week.

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It occurred to me yesterday that growing old means becoming almost totally unconcerned with things like activity, adventure, and aspiration, and instead pushes you into a seemingly never-ending exercise in damage limitation.

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I found myself reading old emails to and from the priestess again today. What on earth is wrong with me? And lately I’ve developed an intense desire to meet Madeline Ryan before I die. You don’t know who Madeline Ryan is, do you? Neither should you because even I don’t know who she is. She seems to lie somewhere between a favourite niece and a kid sister who’s cleverer than me.

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I've been unusually busy today, and now I think it’s time for coffee and toast.