woods – Page 4 – Louisa Parry

3BT – ongoing, accurate, I have a thing for divisors

1. Everyday something changes so every day the walk is different. Today, we taste wood-sorrel and investigate mole hills.

2. Finding this quote in the comments of a fluff article about women with depression: “the sadness that runs under the skin of things, like blood, beginning as a trickle and ending up as a haemorrhage, staining everything.” Wow. (The last paragraph of the otherwise meh article also hit home too.)

3. The 18 newly-filled plant pots can fit perfectly arranged 3×6 on the tray for carrying, and as equally perfectly 2×9 on the water-catching tray in the porch. Deliciously neat.

3BT – halo, trunk, indulgence

20/4/2010 / louisa / 1 Comment

1. The branches practically invisible, the green buds form a lime halo around the trunk.

2. We sit down on a fallen trunk for a kiss. The sunlight dapples the world around us.

3. We nibble the rich dark biscuits in bed before turning to our books.

3BT – view, perfectly dressed, funderwear

10/4/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. At the top of the first rise, we’re surprised by the view – hills and houses in the sunshine.

2. She might only be walking the dog but she’s wearing a beautiful sundress and her lipstick matches her shoes.

3. Consumed by childish glee, he comes down to the kitchen in his underwear to show off that his red-stripy pants match his socks.

Four beautiful things from the weekend

28/3/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

Saturday:

1. We walk further into West Wood that we’ve done before and come across high cliffs of rock with dangling ivy floating in the breeze; a dead tree snapped in half; a precarious overhang.

2. The garage at the end of the road (which, strangely, sells some of the best samosas I’ve ever eaten) has installed a slushie machine – two flavours: raspberry and strawberry. I text John to tell him and he replies: “we’ll look back on this as our diabetic summer.”

Sunday:

3. We sit on the balcony in the sun, waiting. I don’t hear the doorbell but the dog does and we all race to welcome John home.

4. There isn’t quite enough room but I join them on the sofa anyway and watch the film from underneath his arm.

3BT – in the woods

25/3/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

(From my lunchtime walk with Lily in the woods at the back of our house. We took a slightly extended version of our usual route, which goes along the main path and back alongside the beck. I walked about a mile; Lily ran considerably further.)

1. In the forest of birch, oak and rocks, the trees are evenly spaced without crowding or saplings in between. The weighty trunks grow tall and true but their still-naked limbs twist and gnarl. Underfoot is still golden from last year’s leaf fall. In just a few weeks, this scene will be transformed.

2. There is a glade in the woods just off the path above the other path, which looks like it’s from Fable. Two rings of stone, probably a century old, adorned by just one young tree each in the centre – like unactivated cullis gates to other worlds. Nearby, a stream has cut its way under a stone ledge and a set of steps leads excitingly off into the distance.

3. The sides of the beck, from here to the canal and river at Apperley Bridge, are covered with glorious green wild garlic (Ramsoms). The smell is divine. I collect a handful of leaves for my lunch.

3BT – happy hug, fungal find, pleasing polish

18/3/2010 / louisa / 0 Comments

1. Carla purrs loudly: an early morning hug on the bed and in the sun. She doesn’t even care that the dog is on the other side of the bed: hugs, bed, sun – it’s all good.

2. I can’t remember what drew my attention first – the vivid orange of the rotting wood or the sight of a giant fungus growing on the dead stump – but I call Lily to go cross country (downhill between the two main paths) so we can check it out. The orange wood easily pulls away in chunks and is spongy to the touch. The giant fungus is hard – last year’s growth. Then out of the corner of my eye, I spot something more interesting – a twig dangling down, caught on two small branches, covered with coral-crested fungus. From a distance, it looks as tactile and solid as actual coral but it’s more delicate than that – each branch is flat, 2-D like it’s papercraft art.

3. The plasterers have gone but their dust remains throughout the house. It’s so thick and pervasive that I sometimes forget it’s there: assuming the whole world is just matte and dulled. Then I polish the shelves, the soon-to-be-fitted alcove units, and the grey turns into glossy conker brown. Colour and shine will return.

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