Dear Readers, this week I have been in Dorchester, visiting Mum and Dad’s grave out in Milborne St Andrew. And when I came back, I needed to walk, but the night draws in so quickly now that it’s December. I looked up the time for sunset, and it was 16.07, so I had just about an hour for my expedition. The ducks were starting to settle down for the night….
and I noticed all the molehills for the first time. Someone has been very busy…
Then it’s across the blue bridge…
And I’m sure I saw a kingfisher flying like an arrow up the stream, but it was too quick for me to photograph.
And then I look back to see the sun beginning to go down.
How often do we get a chance to really savour a sunset? We should do it more often, I think. I cross the field that was full of sweetcorn last time I was here, in September, and the crows and gulls and pheasants are gleaning the fallen seeds.
The field where the birds are feeding has some magnificent trees. I love that they remain although they must make it awkward to plough. I admire the farmer who recognises that some things are more important than convenience.
And around every corner there’s a new view of the sunset.
And here is a sheep wearing a bemused expression.
There’s a family of swans out on the meadow, and the old, rusty machinery that used to be used to direct the water and flood the fields. By now it’s getting cold, and dark, and so I head back towards the guest house. But as I walk up the hill, the sky blushes and changes until I can do is gawp and take photos. Let’s take some time to watch this twice-daily miracle, friends. Although watching it made me sad, because my parents are no longer here to see it, it also made me feel alive, and that is a very important thing.