Wednesday, May 16, 2007

slow walking, mysotis, swifts

I don't walk fast mostly because there is so much to see. I saunter. I like that word, saunter, which is close in meaning, I think, to the French flâner. Another good word which describes something I like doing.

The scattered petals of forget-me-not (mysotis) make a mosaic of bright blue fragments on the path.

As we sit ont he terrace outside Sankey's I hear, before I see the summer's first swifts. Their sharp cries, as they wheel and swoop in the air, is alway a thrilling sound, a link to the wildness in all of us.

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