Home to roost

This shed in our garden was this morning home to sundry pieces of wood and metal, a television which must have been around for Charles and Diana's wedding, 13 rusting cans of paint and varnish, some broken glass, an interesting wire sculpture and half the local spider population. Today my flatmate emptied it, and by wednesday, all things going as they should, it will be home to four little chickens. A grand accomodation we think ...


During the day, the chickens will have the run / flap / walk of the garden, which is quite extensive in a rambling and be-careful-you-don't-step-over-the-edge kind of way. Come dusk they will be safely shut away in their chicken palace, away from the foxes and badgers, and tucked up in the nesting boxes which were clearly always the true purpose of the spaces in the work bench :)


And, on their first night, they will be tucked up in the freshly raked Hay that I gathered this afternoon.


Raking the hay reminded me of my grandmother's funeral. In the morning we laid her to rest, and in the afternoon we rode behind the tractor baling hay. It was ready and rain was forecast, and in farming life goes on no matter that life does not always go on.

After I'd got my hay together, I went out into our surrounding woodland in search of a six foot fallen branch to use to prop up the washing line. Climbing through hazel copse, wandering amongst the hundreds and thousands of trees that grow around my home, I was struck by how much I already miss this place. It is a funny situation ... the site has been bought by a developer, with a view to demolishing the existing beautiful building and clearing much of the wood and wildflowers, and building some flats. We have a guaranteed six months here, but it could be years - we will get 2 months notice when they get the planning consent. We have badgers and rare woodpeckers and so perhaps there is an angle to be worked there, but one day it will, inevitably, be destroyed. Apparently this is progress?

So, like in so many situations before, I am already grieving for the loss of something I know cannot last forever. I feel weighed down by the certainty of the ending, something which I struggle with in other areas of my life as well - especially relationships. My flat mate said on the day of Summer Equinox, "Oh well, that's it for this year then - all gets colder and darker from here ... ". And it's true. It's barely July and I am already mourning the summer, wishing for the hopeful heady future of May day, when summer stretches forever, just a promise.

I need to find a way to be here, in the moment, and enjoy it, without feeling the pulling away. At least I have plenty of good examples to study. All around me.