The Heart of the Matter

This morning, everywhere is full of rain again.

Unsurprisingly, I am procrastinating about taking Ruby for a walk. It’s that kind of rain. Guilt-rain.IMG_3498

We have had some lovely days, as well, when I would get back from my walk and write absolutely nothing.

Some days are so perfect, there is no need to write about them. Days when the sky is a far-off blue, and the sun is warm, and the river sucks gently in its contented smugness.

A robin is building in the birch tree outside the bedroom. We watch him bringing wet leaves to the nest in the ivy. It’s a labour of diligence and optimism.IMG_3503

And sometimes there is nothing to say . . . It just is, like the evening in the haiku by the Japanese poet, Matsuo Basho:

On a withered branch A crow has alighted: Nightfall in autumn.

It is an acceptance of the universe just as it is, now . . . and now. Change itself seems to be floating in a perfection of wordlessness.

And this . . . I think . . . is the heart of the matter!IMG_3520


About stevehobsonauthor

I am blind, and I hate it. It stinks. But life is still sweet. I have multiple sclerosis, and that stinks too, but life is still sweet. These are my musings.
This entry was posted in Blogging, Nature, Philosophy, Yorkshire and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Heart of the Matter

  1. ellen says:

    Thank you Steve, your last posts have been thought provoking. I’m ready for winter to be over but not quite ready for all the rushing that spring and summer entail (gardening, mostly). But I do have to say – nothing smells as good as freshly turned garden soil!
    Hope your spring will be all that you want it to be. Ellen, Pendleton OR


  2. nancy says:

    Sometimes there is nothing to say.

    But not very often, tee hee x


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