Open Writing

I awoke this morning to the sound of my feathered friends singing merrily away. It was six-thirty. I had slept in.

After bathing I made my usual cuppa tea then went outside on my porch. For a few seconds, all was quiet. I had disturbed my feathered friends. Soon one or two flew by, just to check on who was disturbing their tranquil moments. They saw it was me, relayed the message back to the other birds, and once again their orchestral music vibrated around the whole area. That brought a smile to my face. I could sit all day listening to the sweet music coming from their tiny frames. I knew they were happy and had eaten their fill of the seed which I had left out for them overnight.

One of the thrushes landed in front of me. Looking up, it flapped its wings,then began to emit a beautiful tune. Mesmerised, I watched as the dark brown bird lifted up its head as if to reach the high notes. A tear began to form in the corner of my eye. I realised that this was especially for me, perhaps thanking me for looking after the welfare of all the birds that visit my garden.

Four more thrushes joined the soloist. Soon there were other birds in front of me. Robins, starlings, magpies... and above, skylarks made their early morning music, accompanying the dozen or so birds that were singing sweetly to me below.

Leaning my head back in my chair, I looked into the cloudless sky that was now streaked with red. I watched the sun rise. The frost-covered ground began to sparkle. Suddenly the birds flew off. Turning I saw Lesley standing behind me, with a wonderful smile on her rosy cheeks.

'Are you ready?' She asked. 'It looks as if it is going to be a lovely day for our outing.'

She brought my coat and boots then went to the barn, making sure the horse was ready for its early morning run. She brought him out and helped me to get into the buggy. Soon, there was the sound of metal shoes hitting the road.

The three of us were the only ones out and about in this remote village. We set off at a walking pace, not wishing to disturb those who were still asleep. When we reached open country we speeded up to a gentle canter.

I watched my smiling beauty with her long dark hair which was being blown by the breeze. No longer had I any fears of being in the buggy. Lesley was more than capable of handling it. I relaxed in my seat, enjoying the jaunt.

Lesley ensured that I was safely strapped in as we left the country lane and the horse started to trot.

The icy cold wind blew harder and I pulled my coat tight around me. Noting this, Lesley halted the horse then spread a blanket around me. Satisfied that I was comfortable, she once again set off at a trot across the moors. The sky was brightening although it was not yet full daylight.

Bare trees in the middle distance were beginning to bend as the wind got stronger. I began to wonder if we should turn back. The moors could be inhospitable at this time of year. a human body could not survive one winter night here. Lesley was aware that the wind was gaining strength. We changed direction.

We seemed to be going deeper onto the open moors. I didn't recognise where we were. The sky darkend. Rain began to fall. The wind threatened to overturn the buggy. The was boggy terrain. A buggy could become stuck in the mud and lose a wheel.

Lesley, handling the buggy expertly, was no longer smiling The hair that had been blowing freely in the wind was now matted around her face. I didn't know where we were going, but I had faith in her judgement. Suddenly in the distance, through the rain that was hitting me hard, I saw a light!

Lesley laughed. 'Don't worry Daddy, we'll soon have you dried out.'

We pulled up in front of a large building. Now I knew where we were. The Cow and Calf Hotel.

After getting me inside and sitting me near a roaring log fire she went back outside to see to the horse.

We stayed there for a couple of hours, until the rain had stopped and the wind died down. On the return journey we stayed on roads and tracks and did not attempt to cross the moors again.

Back at home I was changed into dry clothes, then treated to a pint pot of hot tea.

'Why didn't you just turn around and head for home when the gale started?' I asked Lesley.

'I wanted to give you a treat ,' she said. 'I thought we could have an early-morning picnic.'

She gave me a kiss on the cheek and left the room.

I wondered if she had been as scared as I was, out there on the open moors.

Lesley returned with a large basket covered by a checkered cloth. 'I think we should now have the pinic here.'

My wife Betty and I laughed heartily, then tucked in.

*****

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