Wandering, Wondering and Writing

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

I decided to take a break from my writer’s nest – just a brief ten minutes walk to revitalise mind, body and soul.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

Way always leads to way and those ten minutes turned into three hours. There was no ‘missing time’; I enjoyed every moment – wandering, observing, listening, feeling, wondering… I am definitely a wanderer in search of wonder and the wonderful, and it all informs my writing.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

From the cottage, I walked beyond the croft and took the path to the boundary line looking out for kingfishers darting over the sluice.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

I thought I saw one and zoomed in with my camera only to discover a piece of blue material that looked remarkably like a water sprite.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

I danced about and recited Keats to an audience of ash and hawthorn, and I then untangled my way into Seven Acre Wood.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

A squirrel fell out of a rowan tree. I fell out of my head and into my heart. The woodland canopy was thinning but the fruits were ripening.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

I was aware that something was watching me. There were signs of deer. Somewhere, a fox. Perhaps the big wild cat, which had been spotted in this area, prowls the ivy-coated woodland floor. But whatever was watching me wasn’t of flesh and blood.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

The trees guided me back, delivering me safely to the path, as a buzzard circled above.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

Replenished, I returned to the cottage surrounded in nature’s aura.

Wandering, Wondering and Writing

I have wandered, I have wondered, and now I’m writing.