A Place To Rest My Head
Such a beautiful sky to welcome me home from my visit to London, for business, and to Cambridge, for pleasure. I had been reluctant to go south, due to an overloaded ‘in-tray’ of admin’, tiredness, and predicted bad weather. I was not prepared however for how much good it would do me to take a break from routine. If that was a shock, I was taken by complete surprise on my first morning back – to be so wildly happy at simply being home again.
Taking tea in the garden – the sunrise turning everything to liquid gold – the best Tuesday morning I can ever remember. I rushed back in to dress – filled with desire to make the most of the day ahead.
How, I didnt know… or care.
The swan, on the pond at Gatehouse of Fleet, studiously ignoring the camera, watched over by her proud mate (in the wings). Climbing up into the hills above the Water of Fleet, I wound down the windows to let in the birdsong from far off across the distant moorland.Stopping to look out over the view, a small waterfall beckoned from across the small coppice behind me.
I drank in the serenity like a traveller reaching in to drink from a well after a long pilgrimage. I was home, in the land I love. A feeling no camera, paintbrush, or pen can ever quite capture.
Rushing around the world seeking ‘success’ or avoiding ‘failure’ certainly keeps a body busy
– but there’s nothing to compare with having your feet planted square on the ground, when the ground you are standing on is so beautiful, and means so very much to you.
Sometimes the pot a gold at the end o’ the rainbow is just where you suspected – right here at home.
A Place To Rest My Head.