Snake days. ( For Bonnie Ann)
Out early, while people are sleeping. Past Glyn’s house and into the green lane that leads to the high hill and there we found the White Cat waiting. Did he know we would walk this way?
So together we walk as swallows skim the hedges and bees move in and out of foxgloves.
Spider silk stretches across the narrow path, and at the hill’s top there are small pools of spider silk catching the sunlight.
The day is all corvids, with a small flock of seven choughs and later raven and crow. As we walk across the ridge a kestrel flies leisurely over our heads, terracotta against blue sky.
The White Cat rested in a pool of shade.
Rosie found a rock, green with lichen.
The White Cat walked and in the distance St Davids was waking to a new, bright day.
Across the top of the ridge heather was beginning to bloom. Soon the hill will change to a deep rich purple and the air will fill with the honeyed scent of low creeping honeysuckle and purple heathers.
Rosie and The White Cat talked for a while. Then The White Cat went to see Ivy.
On the horizon Grasholm glowed white with thousands of gannets. If you look up from Ivy’s back to the sea behind Ramsey Island you can just see it glowing.
And we found more spider silk pools with tiny beads of glitter dew glimmering in the sunshine. Wild magic.
The day was too beautiful. A short walk became longer. We walked through Maes y Mynydd, where one of the trees I have had the privilege to meet grows out of the side of the ruined house where Glyn’s ashes are scattered. We said hello, to the tree, to the ghosts, to the memories, and walked on.
Fox gloves lined the lane. I have walked here so many times with the ginger cats.
Then we walked on Maurice’s favourite pathway, made by badgers and wild foxes, at times so narrow it was only as wide as The White Cat.
Beside the sea we found a family of fresh fledged raven.
Here, perhaps, the memory of walking with ginger cats was strongest.
And I think back to other walks, with other cats and smile.
And this is what I was doing in 2007, so little has changed.
Back over the hill, The White Cat tired from a long walk, and me walking slower as I don’t want to paint, but need to finish something so I can work on the next piece.
And in the green lane The White Cat becomes very excited and when I go to see what he is batting with his paws I find it is an adder, so I rescue the two of the from each other and wonder, how many adders have I walked past today in the speckled sunshine? Snake days. They are the best kind of beautiful days. Over the stones, beside the sea, walking where The White Cat walks.
I was thinking of the Ginger cats when you mentioned them. I miss them too from afar. Lovely, peaceful walk.
Thanks for the walk 😉
“wild things you make my heart sing”
A beautiful piece of writing. Thank you