Call to me

I headed over and took a load to the charity shop in town and a bag of medications that I found at the back of a cupboard to the chemists to dispose of. I struggled to hold back tears as I handed them in and walked away. It’s strange what blindsides us. It reminded me of taking library books back with his library card saying he wouldn’t be needing it any more. I remember putting the meds to the back of the cupboard thinking I’d save them for a rainy day but it seems like it’s time to get shot of them. Then I dropped off some books that were suitable for work at the office and went back for coffee and to pack up a load to take to Flusco and had this short murky walk on Mell Fell on my way back.

Continuing my Trees of Mell Fell series this oak called to me and, with the words ‘called to me’ kept repeating in my head, I tramped through the bracken trying to recall the poem that it had triggered in the recesses. I’m not sure quite what has happened ... lightening perhaps, or some sort of unusual growth? I ended up meandering and finding a new route although didn’t go to the top which was completely in mist.

Back to more cleaning. I found an old shirt which almost went in the charity shop bag ... but, the smell and the softness of it bought a wave and visceral memory of ease and comfort that has become almost unknown to me for so long, so it stays, for now. Finally, I treated myself to a lovely bath ... hooray... before heading back again.

The Voice - Thomas Hardy

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Standing as when I drew near to the town
Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,
Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze, in its listlessness
Travelling across the wet mead to me here,
You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,
Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward,
Leaves around me falling,
Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,
And the woman calling.