View from the house through a crystal ball
The word Swansong is quoted often as a metaphorical phrase for a final gesture, effort, or performance given just before death or retirement. It refers possibly to the ancient belief that swans sing a beautiful song in the moment just before death, having been generally silent during most of their lifetime. And so it felt after waking this morning that today was a swansong day for my time in Wiltshire. The sun shone and the landscape around here looked pristine. Hawthorn trees groaned under a blizzard of pure white blossom, matched by miles of white umbeliffers along the lanes, almost as if someone had taken an icing sugar duster and flown over the landscape overnight. It looked beautiful against the blue skies and green fields of this little piece of southern England. And so with a heavy heart we drove to one of our favourite coffee shops for a pick me up. Life is driven by responsibilities thrust upon us by others. We are only free of these at the point of birth and then at the time of death. In between we muddle through, the need for money driving the need for work, this brings about control from others who govern our time on earth, thus with life slipping by in ever quickening pulses until when we're too old to summon up the energy but are granted the time to do so, leisure becomes sedate as the reapers clock tickes ever louder. I worked this out in my teenage years and have avoided stress and responsibility as much as possible since then. No children, no marriage, a job that allowed me to enjoy the countryside as much as possible and as a consequence I was happy. In the last five years I changed my career and my circumstances have changed and although I love what I do my happiness levels have dropped as I scratch off the next day in a finite number of days on this Planet. Soon we will no longer live in unspoilt countryside and will be in semi rural splendour 78 miles away. The reason being my need to work, therefore need to be living close to work as I'm feeling too old now to commute long distances. If only I could embrace danger again and unshackle myself from this tyrany we call modern society, today's swansong may actually be a rebirth of the phoenix rising. My heart tells me to embrace this danger but my head is a pragmatist. Ces't la vie.
Summer dusting in a Wiltshire landscape
Light and shadows in a Wiltshire bluebell woodland
Cycles against a gate by a quiet lane
What sunday's are for, tea, cake and reading the papers.
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