Branch frames

I was as delighted as a child with a new toy this morning when I heard the announcer say, ‘A point of View’ with Will Self. I know for sure then that I’m in for an array of emotions, for, although his voice is of a monostyle that in others would be, dare I say, boring, he is as far from that as earth to mars. I have to listen very intently to keep along with his topic and, though it’s fair to say that nearly every other word would have me running to the dictionary for it’s meaning, I ride along with his dialogue like a passenger on a train looking out onto a new terrain with avid and special interest which sometimes brings with it a picture worthy of mirth and a chuckle from me. (I’ve tried to read his books but to no avail, it must be his voice or the fact that it’s just short lectures that I know will end soon).
And so it is with these days of isolation when I wander without fear, except of breathing the cough of someone who may be diseased, that with the space and time to really notice every leaf, and light and shade, and birdcall, and take my feet into pastures new, I will find delight. I chose the time of day today when rain fell but it didn’t take anything away from the enjoyment I had.
I’m also enjoying re-reading very slowly and intently, a book by A J Cronin which although very dire is filled with a language of such descriptive words that provoke in me the image of what they mean by their very sound, but I do refer to a dictionary very often for the pure delight of reading their true meanings.
And so, it is a great time of study and reflection for me but I do not forget that I am very lucky so far to not be directly in touch with any of the consequences that this mighty virus is inflicting upon so many.

The extra picture is an out-of-focus Bullfinch that I watched from a distance enjoying the seeds from a dandelion head.