I think I had gone over the golf course looking for solace?
I never knew it as a golf course only a large empty place where all I could see were trees, grass and sky. My own wilderness that I could walk into and reflect on things, watch the seasons, the birds and the clouds pass by. A place where I felt I was in the landscape, not just looking at one. There is a big difference.
I used to have an itinerary; places I would go and just see if there were any changes happening? How high was the water level in the Brook of Plenty, had the lonely horse got a new stable, had the grass been cut or was I going to be waist high in long grass. Had the blown down tree remained down or was it sawn up and removed and was there any new graffiti in the tunnel….you know nothing really, but still valuable down time for me where a mental shut down or tick over was on hand any time, at the turn of a tap or the flick of a switch. I felt like a Red Indian patrolling the lands….any sign of the white man?
Well yes the ‘White Man’ was very much here, and gone was the freedom to roam at will to visit my clumps of wild flowers and see the fox holes. I had particular pleasure in seeing how high the weeds were growing out of what used to be putting greens, a symbol to me that nature takes things back. There was miles of wire fencing and large mounds of soil from excavations. The white man was focusing on the area closer to main road where a lot of demolition, excavations and ground works were taking place. The area noticeably flater and much more open after the removal of many hedgerows and trees.
A day or two ago I cut my finger quite badly with a saw, bad enough to know it might not be quite the same when it eventually heals. An industrial injury you might say. I’d gone over the golf course to find solace, but there was none there.
