Hidden Meanings

I stayed in a B&B in Co Antrim once, an unprepossessing looking place from the road but with a stunning surprise from my bedroom window. Beyond the few lush, buttercupped fields where the owners kept cattle was the sea, and I remember gasping with pure delight when I saw this view. It was a summer evening and the sun was still high in the sky. It bounced off the water, and the rocky outcrops of the tiny island that I could see  just off the meadow, moored to the land by a rope bridge. Carrick-a-Rede, owned by the National Trust. I drank it all in, elated at such a glorious sight. "How do you get anything done when you could just sit here and stare all day?" I asked the owner, a down-to-earth farmer's wife. "Sure I never notice it at all," she said. "I've lived here all my adult life. I never even look at it." I know it was an obvious, understandable response, but still I was shocked. How could you not be drawn to this scape, gloat over the scenery, breathe it in, let it fill your heart and soul and mind and put into perspective all the troubles of the world, and your own too? I mention this because I never walk in my fields, work or sit in my garden, or catch a glimpse of the view from a window, on a sunny or rainy day, gloomy or bright, without thinking I'm the luckiest person alive to be able to live here. I realise it's early days, but it would make no difference if this was my natural habitat. To not be susceptible to the beauty, the brilliance of the natural world in all its forms and phases would be to not live, as far as I'm concerned. Perhaps that tough old bird got her inspiration directly from a Higher Power. I noticed a bowler hat on a coat stand in the hall when I arrived, and I knew exactly what that meant. Each to his own.

I've been back here several times but have never yet been able to step onto the bridge

Talking about tough old birds, as I lay supine on my recliner enjoying the hot sunshine this morning and ignoring my inner voice - "Get up! Do something!" "I won't! I'm ill. I need to get better." "Rubbish! Do something! Pick up a hoe!" "I'll just lie here for a bit, it's lovely and hot." "You're wasting time! Lazy!" - five geese flew over squawking loudly. They were not in a tight form but all over the place, one veering left, three together, and one way to the right. I watched as they went past, and a minute later they were back, going the other way. For over five minutes I observed them flapping all over the place, trying different directions, and I realised they were lost. They might have been Canada or Brent geese that got separated from the flock. I felt really disturbed witnessing what was obviously their distress. Eventually to my relief they disappeared and I hope they found what they were looking for. They quite churned me up.