I have to say that I'm discouraged at how slowly I'm recovering from the chest infection of a couple of weeks ago. My breathing is more or less OK now, and my cough has more or less gone, but I'm left with no energy at all and an urgent need to sleep and sleep. It was such a beautiful morning however, that I was determined to get out for a walk and enjoy the burgeoning spring and the warm sunshine. So we set off for a walk around the local lanes. My pace is so slow at present, not like the normal me who would be striding the hills on a day like this. But it was lovely all the same, and there is one great advantage to walking slowly, and that is the opportunity to observe nature. We stopped frequently for me to catch my breath, and leant on gates watching lambs leaping and running around. I love it when groups of adolescent lambs rush around in gangs doing crazy stuff while their boring old mothers just crop the grass and take no notice of them. That is, until their own offspring make a dive for their teats and suck with such eagerness, butting their heads into their mothers' flanks, that the mothers are often in danger of being pushed off their feet. And the wildflowers now! Primroses, lesser celandines, violets, wild daffodils, greater stitchwort, blackthorn blossom and so many more I don't know the names of. On the verges the leaves of cow parsley and dog's mercury push up relentlessly, and a general greening of the hedgerows is evident, thanks mostly to the hawthorn. Spring is truly busting out all over.
But the thing that drew my attention was on the verge of the main road going back down into the village. There is a lot of pheasant shooting around here, and the poor silly creatures hang around on and near the roads, and are often hit by cars. I think that shooting pheasant is not really fair play. They are so slow at taking to the wing that you could hardly fail to hit one. Not like shooting grouse - they are so wily and unpredictable in their flight that bagging one is true sport. Not that I have ever tried, or would ever want to.
So this poor pheasant had been killed by a car. The actual carcase had disappeared but there were feathers everywhere along the verge, and it was obvious what had happened. I picked up a feather and studied it really closely. Have you ever really, really looked at a pheasant feather? They are things of great beauty. I'm not a believer in a higher power, but when you look at something like a pheasant feather, you can't help thinking about concepts like intelligent design. The feather is long and thin, with bands of black, buff, and black spots on tan. The stripes are slightly irregular. I suppose the purpose of this pattern is camouflage, particularly effective in leafless winter woodland, I would imagine. So it's functional, but beautiful as well. I should like a coat made, not with pheasant feathers exactly (that would look pretty silly), but in a tweed of these colours and approximate pattern - now that would be something.
So that was my little mindfulness moment today. I must confess that I stopped doing my formal meditation when I had the chest infection and my breathing was so bad, and I haven't got back into the groove yet, though I will soon. But a little informal practice now and again throughout the day does help keep me on track and remind me of what a wonderful world we live in.
