Saturday, 25 October 2014
Being mindful of slowing down, there are some little treats I have lined up for myself this week. Firstly I want to read Thomas Hardy's Under the Greenwood Tree, search for some things I have in mind in the charity shops and if the mood takes me, I may assemble some jewellery. No big plans, just some gentle ways back onto the wiggly path I am trying to follow.
For those of you not familiar with Hardy's work I leave you with the first paragraph of Under the Greenwood Tree written in 1872:
'To dwellers in a wood almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature. At the passing of the breeze the fir-trees sob and moan no less distinctly than they rock; the holly whistles as it battles with itself; the ash hisses amid its quiverings; the beech rustles while its flat boughs rise and fall. And winter, which modifies the note of such trees as shed their leaves, does not destroy its individuality.'
Ah, Mr Hardy, you have such a way with words.