A quiet evening at home

DSCN0596The sun had just set on the land and nothing was happening at home, there was nothing to do in the garden, so I stood out there in the stillness.

Up above, the sun still illuminated the clouds that drifted almost imperceptibly past changing from greys to straw and rose colours on the pale blue background of the twilight sky.

The wood pigeons could be heard flapping and slapping among the trees as they found suitable roosting spots. A rook flew lazily over, its wing feathers making a crisp rustling as it headed towards the local woods.

Then I noticed the hundreds of sounds of human activity that seemed to overflow the surrounding hedges and cascade into the garden like a continuous flood. The air ripping scream of a sports motor bile on a nearby road did not fade away before the rubble of heavy tyres on the motorway told of conveys of lorries passing. Then the hardened steel railing of a train out of london rose and shrank away.

For a moment the continual hum of the motorway was pleasantly upstaged by the clean rustle of leafy shrubs in the evening breeze. In the hedge dark silhouettes of sparrows could be seen moving softly about, seeking safer perches for the night.

Then like hail from above came the whine of jet engines lifting travellers on towards their sunrise destinations in their sun lit silver bodied cocoon. Looking up above the near intruder I could see the vapour trail of a far more distant over flier beginning to loose its straightness in the rarefied pale blue sky.

By now the lazy blues of the lavender were beginning to merge with darkening grass yet the daisy whites stood sentinel; over the borders. Then the sun had set on even the clouds and after the last gull had sloped off to join its family even the birds were still. With the trees just black islands in a grey sea like sky all nature seems to have wrapped its duvet around it and gone to sleep.

But then with no sound that I can hear anymore two racing, fluttering, diving, ducking shapes flew into the garden between the silhouetted tress and out again. Did I imagine it? No there they were again, and again. As a child I used to watch and listen to these wonderful creatures, now tonight of all the sounds of the evening the bats squeak is the one I wish I could have heard.

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2 thoughts on “A quiet evening at home

  1. Thank you for your William Henry Davis moment..enjoyed it. A poor life this if, full of care,
    We have no time to stand and stare.

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