Across the open face of light some sober trails of vapour creep….”
Green and tan acorns knocking my helmet and cracking as they land; velvet lined chamois coloured nut shells, prickly outside; lusciously polished conkers and their bright green spiky caskets; auterminally crippled wasp, pivoting slowly around a pinned wing; great big low flying, drowsy Lancaster bomber wasps that can barely keep airborne; a bedraggled wet-furred road-kill stoat/weasel; likewise, one pancake flattened hedgehog; tremendous apple falls, rosey or pale yellow(delicious snacks for the taking); squished plums… No, too bright… it’s mashed beetroot and whole beets. (very nice with my hard boiled egg, later) an occasional glint of aluminum can or plastic bottle, a large red gardening gauntlet, a broom with red bristles, the insole of some shoe…
Of course I could mention the hoof-wrenching potholes or frost-lifted cobbles, but I can safely leave these to Sir G with his magnificent forks and sure tread. (cheers Dave, bike builder unbeatable!) he makes the transition from asphalt to other with no fuss or bother.
Alongside these autumnal deposits, blown leaves of all colours, caught by the grass verge like a tide mark; scattered blue flax in song; bright poppies still, between the grassy paving stones and clover; even my favourite little blo-cloker; massive old trees leaning and roaring in the wind (grateful for my rear view mirror as this makes the sound of approaching vehicles inaudible); field after field of greens and ponky cabbages ( O.Q.s, remember the trip down to the pavilions alongside the kitchen gardens?) a lake posing as another field of windswept vibrant green-blue cabbages! … My brain was obviously fixated on cabbages! Then suddenly I was precisely bridled by a perfectly fitting spray of ash leaves, whop! It was such a surprise!
An elderly plump bumble bee clutched my jacket on the back of my bike when I stopped in town. I was stroking it. He decided to follow me into the little shop and cling to my neck. I did try to help him back out again, but when he fell to the floor, a protective old man crushed him underfoot. I felt really sad, as he was so huge and so beautiful.
The fine down on an elderly woman’s face as she lovingly kissed me after helping me in the shop. She smelt faintly of some long forgotten face cream. The warm-bosomy clasp and tear-damp face of another farewell hug (I didn’t stay with this lovely woman for the night even though she would so have loved me to). The strong rough handshake of the widowed horseman and farmer who put me up last night with his lovely daughters and grandchildren. His magnificent animals pull winter sleighs… the genuine delight of 2 very well dressed women in the cultural centre in Stzum.. A request for a loo quite accidentally turned into a pause for a Chopin prelude and the first movement of Op. 110!!
Below the surface? I am not quite sure why I was in such a state for those first few days, but I am loving being here in Poland.