Reflection, Contemplation, Spirits and Mystery

We had almost 'Whole family!' today (something our eldest used to exclaim when she was little). Only one of the teens had better things to do than hang out with us.

We did a local woodland walk again. It's interesting to see how the light and the colours change every time we go. And it was refreshingly cool and gloriously muddy on such a hot day.

Usually we see no one else there, or occasionally someone is leaving as we are arriving, but today there were already 2 cars parked outside the gates when we arrived and more turned up after us. It was unusual.

We went straight to a stream near the entrance - which is on the site of the ruins of a thirteenth century priest's dwelling - and the youngest and the dog played in the water, while my husband, Richard, sat on a log and looked thoughtful, and eldest and I took photos. But we soon became increasingly aware of the strange lack of movement from a small group of people, made up of a middle-aged couple and an elderly man, nearby. They seemed to be silently hanging around and looking down a lot. We began to feel a little uncomfortable about the noise that we were making. We decided to move off and let them have some peace but I found myself looking at some strange powder on ground. Richard whispered that he wondered if someone's ashes had been scattered recently. As it is hallowed ground, where ashes have been scattered before, we weren't surprised but felt it was best to take our disturbance elsewhere. I felt quiet and respectful as I walked away but also slightly uneasy.

As we walked on we became aware of a man walking fast behind us so we stood aside to let him past. He looked purposeful but slowed a little as he went past to ask us if we'd seen an old woman. As he spoke, a walkie-talkie sounded from somewhere within his brightly-coloured clothing and he explained that a 79-year-old woman called Dawn had gone missing from a local caravan park 2 days previously and concern for her safety was mounting. Around the corner he caught up with some people in front of us that we couldn't see, and we heard snippets of a discussion about where they had looked so far.

I got left behind - as I often do when I take a camera - and the voices of my family died away. I thought about the missing woman and wished I'd asked more. When and where was she last seen? Where was she from? Was she on holiday? Did she have Alzheimer's? Did she pass through this wood? Or was this just one of the many places they were looking routinely?

The early autumn leaves, nuts and seeds pattered down intermittently from the high branches causing me to turn and twitch with that tiny amount of fear that can come from surprise and is often quite exciting and fun. So many noises were unexplained. Small animals and birds were no doubt hiding and there were deer tracks crossing to the fields on the right. Some of the old oak tree branches had twisted right round on themselves and made loops, and the trees on the edge of the wood had been beaten by the wind for so many years that they'd taken on a protective stoop. It was eerie, but in a good way. Where it could, the sun streamed determinedly through the dense criss-crossed tree branches and lit the ground in a fishnet pattern. It forced itself through the remaining leaves to send magical shafts of sunlight down to the woodland floor like spotlights. There's a tangible universal spirit in a woodland, walking on those layers and layers of history, seeing the years and years of an oak tree's growth in its twists and turns. And there's so much mystery as - in that tiny snippet of time that I spend there - I wonder what happened before I came stomping through briefly and ignorantly with my boots and my family and my dog.

(There was a police van outside the gates when we left. )