A few shots from a lovely walk up through the woods to the ‘Chinese ponds’ round past Toward.
We took a picnic.
The trees always still you. They have this way of telling you that life is not for the burning, but rather is what happens as we pass by. Each bare branch wears its lichen colonies well, as birds flit through on some afternoon mission or other, unnoticed.
Meanwhile out beyond the branches, through forks and crooked boughs, the real world looks so angular, so predictable. I would stay in the woods. At least for a while.
Yesterday was Sabbath.
For us that means that our little family are close together, resting (although Emily fitted in some sailing- she is in one of the boats in the shot above.)
It has been a rather difficult time of late- deaths, illnesses, conflict in our wider families. There is also so much to do, and I have this constant feeling of time passing- of an opportunity to do something that I can not miss.
But when all is said and done (or even when it is still to be said and prevarication holds sway) there is always the art of stone whacking.
This involves three things- a beach, a stick, and some stones.
It is an activity that can be done alone (but best find a very secluded spot or people will stare) but is best done in small groups.
Stand sideways on to the sea, toss stone in the air and whack it as far as you can out into the waves.
You will miss many, but some will fly.