For Rachel, with love
My friend Rachel is working in the NHS, day after day experiencing so much that would bring giants low. She’s an amazing woman, one who turned her life around and moved from television into medicine. She’s a wonder. This walk is for her. We can’t walk together, not yet. Some time I hope we can. We have plans, and hopes and dreams. So please, walk now, with me and Rachel. Oh, and the White Cat.
Up the lane where the tree bends over the path to make a tunnel the tangled twigs blush green now. Hawthorne, so often busy with sparrows. Up between the hedgebanks, we walked to the Peaceable Kingdom of Horses.
Bug was curious as to what this small creature was. He called his friends to take a look.
The White Cat rested in the shadow of the big stone. It was warm on the hill top. The air was so bright, the colour of the gorse filling the eyes and the scent of it rich, like coconut.
Ivy wandered the hill top. She loves this time of year as she loves to eat the small blue flowers called squil.
Sitting at the top of the hill we listened. There were chough. Following the sound we found the black birds pecking in pasture. A raven called. Gannets flew close to the cliffs. I’d sat here in 2015 when I finished The Lost Words. Much of the inspiration for the images grew from within two miles from here. I could see the rock where the adder basked. Then, when I walked up to the hilltop after completing the last piece a lark rose into the air carrying song, heart, soul, skywards. Today, two days after finishing ( for the third time) the artwork for The Lost Spells, the inspiration for which was often found, again, so close to home, a lark rose, high, high, higher.
Ears followed sound. A raven, so glossy, flew close enough to touch. You can hear the air in their wings. The White Cat blended with lichens.
He is casual in his grace and elegance.
Beneath his paws lichen mottles stones, grows so slow, textures rock.
Even the blackthorn blossom seems to echo his dappled patters.
We stayed for a while, watching the tide turn, no clouds in the sky, only birds for company. There was a bliss about being so removed from all that is happening in the world of humans.
Then home we walked, down from the hill, hearts lightened by lark song and the shape of birds.
With love, to Rachel, and all who have chosen to walk with The White Cat here. Stay safe, be kind. Thank you to all those NHS workers who are working through shifts in this time of great danger, to the care workers, to the shop workers who help us each day, to those who deliver the goods. Thanks to to the farmers, working through the hours of daylight. The fields here are ploughed now, ready for planting. Huge thanks from me to all the indie bookshops who are working away to try to keep people supplied with books, working with indie publishers and others to try to keep our industry afloat.
Love from me, and The White Cat.
Your Ivy reminds me of my heartdog, “Mole”, whom I lost going on 7 years now. I still grieve for him…