Once again my Devon hedgerows are coming to life. Swathes of snowdrops ,bright cheerful daffodils ( how do they get there ) and the first primroses , the great mass which carpet the banks yet to follow . In these difficult and dark times nature is unperturbed and carries on as though the world is just the same . Up on the village playing fields is an ancient, giant oak tree , it is apparently one of the oldest oaks in the country , well over 800 years old .I sometimes stand under it and look up through the trellis work of branches and wonder what it makes of it all . Think of the things it has survived , civil wars , plagues , world wars , pestilence , you name it , it has seen it all . It will be here long after we have all become just memories .
This evening I went for a stroll passing through the Churchyard , graves speckled with more snowdrops ,on my way to a favourite view on the outskirts of the village . There is a five bar gate which looks over a huge field which sinks down voluptuously into the valley below . It faces West and this evening I arrived at the gate just as the sun was setting behind glowering grey black clouds which were capping Dartmoor. It created a rim of gold with great shafts of light streaming heavenward . Transitory - yes , lasting as a memory - definitely .