Wordsmith
Let there be light wishes Kev Reynolds
Irecently spent thirteen days in hospital . It was okay , most of the time . It was winter . Lockdown still had a few more weeks to run , I had no deadlines to meet , and could relax with three meals a day brought to my bed , no washing up afterwards , and a harem of nurses to make a fuss of me .
It was during a period when much of the hospital was full of Covid patients , so those of us who were Covid-free were sectioned off into temporary ‘ make-do wards ’ separated by long blue curtains that remained closed for most of the day . No visitors were allowed , so some of my fellow patients spent most of their time having long discussions on Zoom with their family . You could hear every word , whether you wanted to or not .
I didn ’ t need that . Being a dreamer all my life I was content to trawl through sixtyodd years of adventures without running short of breath . The minutes , hours and days drifted by , interrupted only by someone taking blood , changing an intravenous drip or checking my temperature , weight or blood pressure . Apart from a visit from my wife and family , the only thing I craved was a glimpse of the sky …
There was no sky . There were no clouds , no trees , no grass . There were no windows that I could gain access to , and I became so starved of real light that I even tried to bribe a porter to push me in a wheelchair round the car park . I was that desperate to be Out There , for being denied even a hint of Nature ’ s healing was hard to take .
But once I was set free I saw the sky in a new light , and spent hours simply gazing out the window , celebrating rain clouds as well as sunshine , absorbing once more the �lowers in the garden , squirrels in the trees , and the
With little traffic and practically no aircraft , there ’ s been an awareness of birdsong …
starlings that gather on the telegraph wires . Early one morning I heard the �irst dawn chorus of spring .
It ’ s been said that this Covid year has reawakened an appreciation of the world around us . With little traf�ic and practically no aircraft , there ’ s been an awareness of birdsong and the gift of peace . When lockdown was eased , more and more people discovered the joy of walking , as they made discoveries of the countryside they ’ d never previously given a moment ’ s thought to . We ’ d grown used to seeing Nature �ilms on the tele . Most of their subjects would be about exotic species in some far-off land . But they taught us what can be gained by being observant , and that the elephant on the plains of Africa is no more exciting to study than the butter�lies that gather nectar in our gardens at home .
Those of us who ’ ve made a living from writing about the great Out There , will have a mass of memories to draw out of the well we carry inside us . All those adventures , those moments when we ’ ve held our breath and tried to capture something exciting on �ilm , or in words that we then try to pass on to our readers . We are the lucky ones . We can live the moment , not once but twice or however the man with the world ’ s best job many times we care to delve into the well of memory and sup it afresh . At least , that ’ s how it was for me , stuck in the hospital ward without a glimpse of the sky .
The reality of today is different . After a lifetime of having my �ill of fresh air and exercise in far-off places , my world ’ s been reduced to twelve paces by ten .
The house was new-build when we came here . Well , seven years old it was then ; one of a group of lookalike properties spilling out of a close that once covered a Honda dealership with parking spaces behind locked gates . Despite the builders ’ poor efforts to cover some of the rubble they ’ d unearthed , very little was growing when we moved in . It was a sterile environment , but at least we had a patch of grass out front and a tiny garden out back , measuring twelve paces by ten and hidden from the view of our neighbours by a two-metre fence . There are no mountains on show . There are no mountains for several hundred kilometres . But between nearby houses ( older than ours ), despite the willow and ash trees now in leaf , I can see a section of hill some four kilometres away . And I can dream .
My wife has created a garden . She planted an ornamental maple in the corner rather than one of the local species which would soon steal the light from the people next door . She planted low-growing shrubs too , and a rich variety of �lowers in a bed she developed down one side of our so-called lawn .
I ’ ve spent most of my working life among mountains , gazing on views that stretch for ever . I ’ ve had long and deliriously happy days with nothing man-made in sight . I ’ ve slept beneath a duvet of stars in a land still moulded by Genesis , and woken above a sea of cloud . Today , buses pass my door . But I have no word of complaint , because I ’ ve realised that the world ‘ out there ’ with all its rich diversity , is also ‘ just out there ’ the other side of my window . And 400 metres away around the corner there are woods and meadows and modest little streams that cut trenches through the land . There ’ s wildlife in abundance , and �lowering plants to bring tears to my eyes ; the song of birds at dawn and dusk ; the soft tread of fox and badger and several varieties of deer . There aren ’ t many birds in our garden yet . But when a blackbird does come down , bounces across the lawn , then cocks his head before pouncing on a worm , I gain a thrill no words can describe . A few days ago I watched a long-tailed tit collecting insects from the stems of the maple ; and at the tail end of summer I shall lie on my back on the grass watching squadrons of swifts cavorting overhead , excited with the prospect of �lying south . Their excitement is always contagious .
There ’ s another world out there . It ’ s time to go exploring again .
I shall lie on my back on the grass watching squadrons of swifts overhead … outdoor focus / summer 2021 9