Musings

August 3, 2024

Discovery - Living with Nature

When we first moved to Mulberry House I did not fully understand what it meant to live with nature. I came seeking space, a refuge from the endless pace of the city, but I found something far richer—a silent, ongoing conversation with the world around me.

In the early mornings, the air is cool and soft, and the light drips like honey through the leaves. I step outside with a cup of tea, its steam rising and mingling with the mist that clings to the ground. The birds are my morning choir, their songs lifting into the sky with the first rays of the sun. They sing not for me, but for the sheer joy of being alive, and in listening, I am reminded of that same joy within myself.

The animals here are not just creatures I observe; they are neighbours and/or beloved pets with whom I share this space. There is a Robin who flits through the brambles, her jacket a flash of russet against the green, Sir Phileas the Pheasant cries, no, shouts through the still morning air. It is a sound both fierce and self important as he darts across the field, hands stuffed in plumage pockets and jolly red jowls.

Then there are the deer, graceful and shy, who graze in the clearing by the edge of the woods. As magical today as the day we found Mulberry House. They move with such elegance, as if every step is a dance choreographed by the earth itself. I watch them, entranced, my breath catching as they raise their heads, ears twitching at a sound I cannot hear.

As the sun sets, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape, I often find myself reflecting on the day. The sky fades from blue to pink to deep indigo, and the stars begin to peek out, one by one. It is in these moments, when the world is quiet and still, that I feel most connected to the earth. The night is alive with the rustling of leaves, the distant call of an owl, the soft chirping of crickets. It is a symphony of sound, a reminder that even in the darkness, there is life.

Living with nature has taught me to see the world with new eyes. It has shown me the beauty in the everyday, the magic in the mundane. It has reminded me that I am not separate from the earth, but a part of it—a thread in the vast, intricate tapestry of life. “We are all animals”, as my son recently reminded me. And in this realisation, I have found a sense of peace, a quiet contentment that fills my days and lingers in my heart long after the sun has set.

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