A New Beginning

Continuity, renewal and hope

Hello, beautiful souls, I am humbled we have gathered again under the warmth of the early morning sun. As we pause and notice seeds being released and flowers waning, let us look the other way and notice a new beginning.

In my village where I rent my tiny cottage there is an empty house.

Ancient, filled with creaking wooden beams and a large, blackened chimney it stands silent and speaks of the past. The window frames are of a different time, the stone, heavy and cold. And as I peer through the dusty glass, the morning summer sun gently parts the leaves of the giant Oak and touches my shoulder. It tiptoes through the gaps in the door and shines its light into the empty, forgotten rooms.

An open fireplace, empty and alone. The floor slabbed with stones as old as time itself. As I pause outside, I look up through the old glass, the house seems to be holding its breath, seems to sense I am there.

Stepping back, I pause and look up at the heavy wooden door. A door that has stood for centuries, and I wonder who the last person was to look back at the empty rooms, to close the door for the final time and with a heavy heart to leave, never to return.

And now nature has claimed it back.

The steps once scrubbed and kept clean are no longer visible as trailing ivy and brambles twist and tumble. Tiny dog roses have begun to climb up the walls of the empty house, finding crumbling, hidden places to attach their roots and to seek moisture from the old stone which holds the damp of hundreds of winters.

Looking up and down the quiet road, I see I am alone and putting my rucksack onto the floor, I sit on top of the ivy and lean my weary head against the ancient door. Closing my eyes, I allow my thoughts to quieten, my body to still so I can hear the whispers of the past, so I can hear the house speak.

For over four hundred summers it has stood, grounded and solid. It has seen a time when horse’s hooves claimed the roads and the swish of long skirts gently touched its floor. It has stood as the first harvests were carried through the door and watched quietly as the full moon guided travellers along the winding road. It has seen the oak grow tall and strong, and felt its wisdom in old age.

I start as a male blackbird’s call cries through the landscape. The step is warm now, the sun’s dry heat resting on my knees. As I turn the other way the Blackbird swoops down and I see he is not alone. A female fledgling is with him, opening her beak for food. Reaching into my pocket, I toss some seed onto the old step, and as I take a gentle breath, they both come and feed as if I am part of this old house’s history, part of the nature that has begun to claim it back. As I sit and throw more seed, a blue tit and a young crow also fly down and a wild dove lands on the roof above me. I realise the house is silent no more. It has never really been alone.

I glance up towards the sky and see the sun has risen fully, its soft morning energy travelling over the house, down the empty road and into the waiting trees beyond where I know the stream dances within its light.

I take one last look at the empty house and notice how the windows shine with light. It is then I see a sign tucked amongst the hedge.

The house is for sale. And just like the blackbird fledgling, there is to be new life, a new beginning.

Thank you for taking this gentle rest with me. I am humbled you have joined me.

If you would like to travel alongside for longer you are warmly invited to subscribe to receive my weekly free Nature’s Seasonal Letters. I would be honoured to walk this path with you.

Sending seasonal warmth to you all

Clare