Turning on, tuning in and dropping out
Headley Heath didn't really produce the goods this morning. It was warm but dull, so insect activity was suppressed (or should that be depressed). Even walking through vegetation that would normally unleash squadrons of disturbed flying things yielded little. Plants, too, were not playing ball. I even wandered over to the Martagon Lily site (which I have seen fully in flower by early June in some years), but could only find tight buds on up to 25 plants. It has been known from here since the early 19th century. Shame I cannot show you a bloom as it is rather fetching.
I sat down close to a fine specimen of Hound's-tongue (above) and huffed a bit - the morning had not been inspiring. However, the view from where I sat was magnificent, the air was warm, so I closed my eyes and let my senses take over. Bird song filtered up to me from the valley below, the chalk downland herbs were sending delicate wafts of scent my way - life wasn't so bad after all. Opening my eyes the wall of green ahead of me was vibrant. Surely this was enough? At times I am guilty of trying to put a name to everything that I see as if this is the sole purpose of my being outside. This is woefully short-sighted. To be bathed aurally, visually and olfactually (is that a word?) regardless of the specific identity of what species are bestowing this upon me should be enough. I need to remember this on days when it all seems like too much effort. In future, at moments of frustration, I will sit down and follow an old hippy idiom - 'Turn on (close my eyes), tune in (be aware of my senses) and drop out (give myself up to the sensations)'