Mell Fell

After sorting and taking some more stuff over, setting up the broadband and hopefully organising delivery of fuel via the collective buying set up, I took a load to the charity shop and headed up for fresh air and a sanity break. I’m oscillating between blind panic and feeling as though I’m slowly getting there.

Mary Oliver is boxed and ready to go ... a couple of her volumes given to us on our wedding day.

Can You Imagine? - Mary Oliver

For example, what the trees do
not only in lightening storms
or the watery dark of a summer’s night
or under the white nets of winter
but now, and now, and now – whenever
we’re not looking. Surely you can’t imagine
they don’t dance, from the root up, wishing
to travel a little, not cramped so much as wanting
a better view, or more sun, or just as avidly
more shade – surely you can’t imagine they just
stand there loving every
minute of it, the birds or the emptiness, the dark rings
of the years slowly and without a sound
thickening, and nothing different unless the wind,
and then only in its own mood, comes
to visit, surely you can’t imagine
patience, and happiness, like that.