Colours of March

Only just in time to post my colours for March. These were all taken at the beginning of the month when I was on holiday in Suffolk. The weather was cold and windy but mostly dry and this shot was taken on one of the lovely sunny days.

These reeds looked lovely with the sun shining through them and lighting the tops. Best viewed full size.

This lonely bulrush is really pretty outlined against the water. It was a grey day which is a pity because it would have looked wonderful with the sun on it and against blue water.

The Path

The path through the wood is hushed and soft.

Footsteps of man and beast

lie cushioned by ancient pine.

Centuries of fragrant needles.

The spirit of the path breathes a cool, damp sigh

turning leaves softly over;

whispering through high branches.

Gently shifting the mist.

The way of the path is blurred and smudged

with prints of hooves and paws.

Small paths leave it to explore

while it wanders gently on.

Travellers on the path step quietly. Heads lift

and eyes pierce through the trees.

Nostrils scenting, ears pricked.

They hear the path's song.

The song of the path is ancient and low.

Remembrance of bonds and affinities

forged in ancient days

reach out to touch it.

The colours of the path are earth and tree

snow and leaf. Sky and sunset

seen through bare branches

create stained glass windows.

The seasons of the path turn round and round

one upon the other.

Waking, nourishing, sleeping again

on the wheel of rolling time.

Good dog!

Well, no. He's not my dog. He's a good dog waiting patiently outside a very nice deli while his owner was inside.

That's my husband you can just see inside the shop buying himself a meat pie! Did he make it out of the shop and past the dog with the pie intact? Well of course he did because the little black dog is a very good little black dog. Unlike my large grey dog, Misty, who this morning took off after a muntjac deer on the common near the cottage we're staying at in Suffolk. Half an hour of calling later she came back panting like a steam train but luckily not with a deer hanging out of her mouth.

And that was just today! Yesterday she went after a huge herd of red deer the other side of the common. They were standing at the edge of some reed beds at the bottom of a slope. Misty doesn't know what reed beds are - they just looked like a field of reeds to her. Until she rushed in after the deer, that is. Now she knows what's underneath the reeds - very wet, very black mud!

Misty's a bad dog!