Don't walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be my friend.
Albert Camus
Be my friend. Just take me for a walk. Please. Or I'll have to take myself for one. And then I won't have a friend -
Four-legged-friend discovered yesterday that he could hold his lead in his mouth. It happened by accident. There was something dangling at mouth level that hadn't been there before so what was a dog meant to do. It tasted leathery and smelt of friends' hands. Then, he appeared to realise what exactly it was that he had in his mouth. And having never done this before, he brought it to us looking for our hands, as if to say take it and take me for a walk.
I thought you couldn't teach an old dog tricks. Four-legged-friend proved that wrong. Even if seven is not old old, it is pretty old in big-dog years.
While Four-legged-friend was happy to walk with a friend, Bertie Baggins was taken for a shimmy by Littlest. Oh yeah ...
Littlest who's never been one to stick to the common path - instead striding out across the road less travelled - the road not previously travelled by anyone, unless that anyone is a tractor driver.
In life, as in stomping across an actual field, 'If you're walking down the right path and you're willing to keep walking, eventually you'll make progress.' Barak Obama
And the truest quote of all and the one that fuels this blog -
'All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.' Friedrich Nietzsche
Shadow pictures; I'm always taking shadow pictures. They are more anonymous for the purposes of a blog and I think they are a little bit arty; is ethereal too big a jump - pictures that hint at the person without showing the person, that capture only their shadow - a fleeting, temporary but essentially unique and unchanging thing? These five long skinny figures are us stretched across the ploughed field - like the mysterious ebony Makonde figures of African sculptures - all leg and short body and interlacing togetherness.
Our shadows lengthened as the sun bit a chunk out of the horizon
Before setting (behind Littlest)
Sunset: word jumble that might be a poem or might just be a word jumble
Dragged below a distant hill and
Cusped
in outstretched hand,
the dying sun -
blinking, burning bright - is
colour-sucked
by hungry clouds once grey, now
dipped
in golden light.
Dreaming summer murmurations,
distant, dipping, earth-bound flock -
soaring, spinning,
sudden dropping,
settling
as a breaking wave
on new bared soil;
a memory dancing briefly,
skipping stirred up thoughts, then swiftly gone.
Fine ash of autumn stills
with sudden sharpening
winter chill.
And dimming light at dusk
sends our shadows running home.
One final quote on the subject of walking -
'If you are seeking creative ideas go out walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk.' Raymond Inmon
Angels whisper at sunset too.
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