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Το 'Σταυρωμένο δέντρο' στο Charlecote Park...

The pale horse

Replying to Me's comment on my previous post: Dear Me, this is the horse I was talking about. My painting from my wild years in Lancaster!!

I haven't read the Revelation yet, please forgive my ignorance.

Yours


A very Bad Wolf indeed

God-given days

Green rolling hills with grass sparkling under the sunshine. Intermissions of small villages, built with stone or bricks, topped with thatched roofs, embellished with harmonious gardens. Pheasants pausing on the lawn, surprised to see me pass them. Trees swaying in the wind, birds gossiping full of joy for the glorious day.

I was a girl on a mission on Thursday, as I drove through the Warwickshire countryside: I delivered posters and flyers for our Easter activities. It was a change from the office work and an opportunity for me to visit places I hadn’t been to before. As I don’t have a car here, I rely on buses and so some areas are inaccessible to me…

But on that day I was a herald of Charlecote Park, spreading the word around, meeting people and indulging in the pleasures of spring and the English country. It’s nice to bring good news, people smile at you and are nice. And why shouldn’t they be? They walked their dogs, tended their gardens, managed their shops in a lovely environment. A small paradise, undisturbed, old, balanced, that was the picture Warwickshire offered me last Thursday. And I am grateful, because the last days have been tough, too much disappointment and insecurity kind of darkened my thought. It wasn’t a completely easy task though, since I hadn’t had my lunch before I left, so after one hour I grew terribly hungry! But hunger could not and did not spoil my day and my drive through fields, villages and small towns.

I was then compensated for the distress and frustration I had gone through. I even felt that somebody winked at me, I sensed an ironic, but paternal smile at my miserable mood. I was laughable indeed; but instead of laughter I received something more generous and less critical. And English countryside was the perfect means at the perfect time. God bless her!