INSIGHT SUPLANTED BY WALKS AMONG THE WINTER LEAVES.
I remember a tree from this mornings walk; well I remember many trees but the one I specially remember had moss that almost seemed plaited up its trunk. It overlapped itself, resembling a series of green waves and it was illuminated by the sun. it glowed so vividly so greenly but in the shade was darker and less vibrant. I like to take photos and as Dash wandered along besides me on the frosty track, was tempted by that tree and then another, similarly bright in the light and then another and another and yet I didn’t.
I would like to say it was because I wanted to breath in and witness their beauty without thought of Instagram or facebook later on in the day, but it wasn’t that at all; I was just feeling lazy and careless and warm in that, battered by the icy but wrapped up warm way, we sometimes experience on days like these.
I did like that walk. Up near the Hillhouse with the blue sky, the occasional cloud and the sun making the Firth below shine like overly polished silver. The hills towards Glen Fruin glowed with a rich yellowness; all those trees were just beautiful and to start with there was no one around.
I do not know what I was thinking, maybe some nagging work thing that I can’t let go, maybe Wendys delighted dismay after her DNA test results this morning and her puzzlement at the Finnish dimension. I am not sure, to be honest, that I was thinking much at all. I would have been watching Dash kick up the leaves after he had one of his numerous pees; hoping he pooed well off the path. I would also have been wondering at the women walking along the path behind me and puzzling about whether men and women are completely different in company. Their laughter really did tinkle in the air, the joy of their conversation filled the spaces between the trees with a delicious energy. I don’t hear men like that, usually they are serious or if it is loud, their talk, I tend to sense, holds a hint of a threat.
I saw small trees; some of fir, others birch, again lit up by the sun, outlined against the sky. I took photos of some of these and now I cast my mind back would have been remembering my conversation of last night at the book event with someone, who, like me, is on a compulsory treatment order.
I have been told that mine is likely to be renewed soon, but first my Mental health officer will need to assess me and then a designated medical practitioner will have to enter the weird and not very wonderful world of filling in a T3 form about my compulsory injection. I had told the person that I was sort of on strike with the people helping me; pretty much silent with them. She turned round and said she never ever spoke to them, never even let them in her house, had as little to with them as she possibly could. It had never occurred to me that I could go down that path. I like these helpers but am so, so, so, weary of it all. The thought of blocking them from my life like some obnoxious troll on twitter momentarily appealed, made me think more seriously about the beauty of the light and the stark twisted branches around me and their value. Made me watch Dash the dog as he pranced about, near the limits of his lead, stopping suddenly to sniff or scratch and then moving on again.
These things, for a brief moment, suddenly seemed so much more real and important than defining myself by illness or being approached in such a mechanical way by people sure of what I need to keep me safe.
I paused often during that walk to look at the frost sketched leaves, so incredibly beautiful, dead by now but beautiful and with no awareness of the effect that they have on me each time I see them. I wonder if Dash is aware of his effect? Those women on the path? The big collies who surrounded Dash with a threatening gaze? I wonder if I am aware and wonder if I too, like the frosty leaves have no awareness really, just like they don’t.
(photos: the walk by Hillhouse December 2022)
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