Beyond the window of my cave, I watch the world pirouette through the years. Snug in a blanket of Welsh hills, my surroundings dance through the rainbow of seasons. Flora and fauna return in routine and tradition, enchanting this haven of splendour.
Dusk captures the beauty of the nocturnal, tempting the creatures of nightfall to play. The brook trickles a secret lullaby of serenity in whispering chorus to wildlife night swimming under the moonlit sky. Predators stalk through the camouflage of branches with stealth, releasing spontaneous shattering cries of warning to rivalry and intruders unseen. With a turn of the world and encircled by the moon, dawn creeps upon the pastures, smiling with glory and pride.
Each morning brings a thousand miracles in breath, flight and bloom. The lark resonates life into a snoozing world, with gratitude and forgiveness, a gift of a brand new day. Dewdrops lick the blades of sward, reviving the sleepy and rejuvenating the old. Sparrows flutter and fuss and chatter in schools of dozens, pecking the fruit of the spell and bees buzz happily, pollinating through petals, like miniature Monets, painting a masterpiece of phenomenon.
Each cycle of season emanates new and celebrates old. Each passing of the sun encourages re-growth and sparks honour to live on. Each night, the transient moon protects the frail and guides the hungry. Each and every day and night, we are greeted with splendour, blessed with beauty and needed to complete the magnum opus, life as we fail to see it.
There is neither an artist nor musician like Mother Nature… and there is no place like home.
