Changes

When my phone rang on Sunday morning, just before eight, the last person I expected it to be was Rob.

“Is your camera charged up?” he said.

It wasn’t, but I was curious.

“There’s this amazing place…I passed by it last week on my school run. You HAVE to come and see it and get some photos.”

I groaned. It was Sunday morning! I was still only on my first cup of tea, wrapped up snugly in my dressing gown, and had the intention of doing very little for a few hours as the world outside warmed up a little bit. “What is this place?” I said.

“It’s a pond!”

A pond? I have two of those in the garden, so was less than excited. But he had this tone in his voice – one of expectation and wonder.

“The mist rolls over the water,” he said. “And the lily pads are as big as minis. And the whole place is under a canopy of orange and red and yellow, and the sun peeks through the branches of the trees and dances on the water…and all around are the remains of ancient, stone buildings, and…”

“And what?”

“And if you look close enough…” he said in a whisper, “… you can see Merlin with his little pointy hat, emerging from the mist.”

So I charged the camera for half an hour and off we went. Twenty minutes later we arrived at Woodbury Common and made our way through the lanes to Bystock Reservoir and Ponds.

Nature can be a real bummer sometimes. The canopy of orange and red and yellow was gone. There was no mist. And the sky was grey, not blue. It’s remarkable the difference a few days can make to the world, isn’t it?

But we walked around the huge pond, in awe of the reflections in the water. It was so still, that it looked like the sky was beneath us as well as above us. Not one tiny ripple of life could be seen. The red damselflies had disappeared along with the butterflies, the birds had fled and the sun was hidden within thick, autumn clouds. It was difficult to imagine the chaotic world we’d just left behind when, standing completely still, not even a crunch of a leaf or a snap of a twig disturbed the silence. The place was desolate; forgotten. Even Merlin had moved on.

But ensconced within that deathly silence was a timeless peace, and a comforting knowledge. The knowledge that time will pass…that life will return…and that which is barren and grey today will again, one day, be swathed in colour.




I had some sad news a few days ago. Dan and Tallis have decided to go their separate ways.

I know it isn't a lack of love that brought them to their decision, because their love remains. But again I'm left with a feeling of sorrow. Of things being uncertain. And of how no matter how hard we try or no matter how much we want something, sometimes it seems to be completely out of our control.

So I sit for a while, gazing upon life's Autumn waters, and hope and pray...for me and for them... for the beauty of Spring.