Curlews, Lapwings and grey wethers.

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Posted by john timpany on Tuesday, August 3, 2010

I can remember standing at a wire fence overlooking a ploughed field, first hot coffeee warming my hands, and beyond that, just in front of a stand of beech and birch, the cock pheasants strutted and chortled their territorial claims.

A pair of arms encircled my waist and she said "You're grunting again!".

She had a way with words.

It was an unconscious habit of contentment when I groaned softly to myself.

I look back and wonder if life on the road was the remarkable experience of being with a partner who accepted that as simply as many women accept the birthday gift of an SUV these days, or whether it was the thrill of doing what my heart had told me since I was six.

I wonder if my second chance is just an old mans nostalgia, or getting back to roots.

I guess the first morning when the frost bites my nose and stings my face as I crawl out of my sleeping bag and point my body to the hedge, my face to the sky and whisper "ahhh" despite the cold, will answer most things.

In the meantime - I love the dream.

(grey wethers is a Northern dialect for hill sheep lying on the moors. Wethers are boulders, and that's what the sheep look like)

6 comments on “Curlews, Lapwings and grey wethers.”