Sometimes, things conspire to interrupt your complacent flow.
You know – whirlwinds, a death in the family, sudden PitBull shows….
On Saturday we attended the Pitbull Union show and, in between giving Taranis a trot in the ring and Scylla lots of trots around the rugby field, we managed to squeeze in the weekly hour at puppy-training school.
Beth and David train from their plot in Honeydew, and we go every Saturday to socialise Taranis plus benefit from Beth’s considerable years of experience with dogs.
This particular morning, Scylla and I were loafing around between the Bauhinia tree and the herb garden while Taranis and Warren did all the work, as is our wont. Misty, a middle-aged blue-eyed Husky who helps keep the little puppies in line with a whack of her paw, came sniffing around the huge, old Camel’s Foot tree. Eyeing me hopefully in case I had any treats about my person.
I had none, alas – but then I felt it.
Rising from the ground through the soles of my takkies, spreading up my body like a warm wave on this chilly morning – a sense of love and cherishing so intense that my jaw dropped open. I looked at the tree. I looked at Scylla, who didn’t seem to feel it – or maybe she’s used to this kind of thing, I’m not sure. I looked at Misty. Misty continued to look back at me.
A feeling like being wrapped in someones arms and assured that you are truly loved – yet not only you, but every sentient thing (that is, every thing) is equally loved and treasured.
Was it coming from the land?
The place I have lived for the last 6 years sometimes reminds me in this way.
The land speaks, and I am starting to hear.
Down the dusty dry path to the parking field. Across the water-swollen grass on the verges Scylla and I moved at the end of the hour. Walking to the car around the huge fenced compost heap, I stopped.
There, sprawling under the fence, in unmistakeably-leafed glory. My first plant friend, Coltsfoot.