Do you ever look up from what you’re doing and find you’re in the very heart of your own life? And no matter what it was that occupied your mind until that moment, you’re suddenly, wholly glad to be present with yourself on a sunlit day when the clouds and the light race in bars to the far horizon; where snow’s wreathed in the corries and the plum-line birks are boiling under black destriers of cloud heaped out to the west and Ireland like ever they did in the olden days.
And when that happens, are you better able to breathe cleanly again, remembering that some things (not many, mind) lie forever beyond harm’s reach?
Bog Myrtle & Peat 
Leave a comment