Yesterday morning I took Maggie for a spur of the moment walk. It was one of those instances where one is finishing breakfast and just makes a decision, a definite decision that something is to be done and off you go and do it.
We went up to the lottie. I have no photos to share with you, I didn't bother taking my camera. But we were there, I promise, I took a picture with my phone and posted it on Facebook for proof! We sat on the bench without another soul in our field and we just listened to the many birds and watched the clouds roll slowly above our heads. Maggie ate a biscuit (I think it was probably her highlight!), I smiled at our guerrilla planted daffodils swaying in the breeze up at the boundary hedge.
I walked around 24a whist she continued to tackle the beast (a biscuit for large dogs, broken in half - ooops, okay it was my fault, I didn't read the label) and felt a little bit of joy enter my heart at all the buds and bright green shoots appearing. For a moment is was just me, Maggie, nature and my breath.
Then we went home.
Completely unremarkable you may say and indeed last night I would have agreed with you. But it was remarkable; almost amazing. It was the first time I have done such a thing alone this year after one of the worst nervous breakdowns ever, which had started in September and worsened continuously over Christmas and New Year and through a terrible February. Yesterday, for a few minutes, Nature showed me why I am alive, why we are all alive - to enjoy her splendour, to revel in the seasons and the optimism that Spring brings.
It was a remarkable event because life is remarkable and for a change, for a few little minutes, I understood that.