Laments.

I’ve been noticing the seasonal markers these past couple of days – mostly the elder bushes whose coats of white icing now impersonate myriad bunches of little green grapes, and also the Rosebay Willowherb which has its time of pink finery before turning feathery to declare the end of summer.

I’ve seen a change in my response to seasonal markers. At one time I found them comfortable and even energising because they were footprints on the road to an exciting and seemingly endless future. Ah, but then a day comes when intimations of mortality settle in the mind and take root. And from that day forth, the seasonal markers take on quite a different significance.

So have a silly ditty from Mr and Mrs Omnia. They call it Eddy the Squirrel, since it was Eddy’s ubiquitous presence on their woodland walks that gave genesis to the piece. I think it should be called The Squirrel’s Lament.