End of the day

You'll be glad to hear that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated; it was another young man who died on the by-pass that day. A step in a wrong direction started from school days. Not as lucky as even the deer I have been watching.

But all in all it is a reminder that the city is not the soft life I imagined. I had chosen its margins as my camp after my ill-health last year. To get whole.

But without friends to feed me up with a big dinner and some warmth and talk now and then it is no home to me.

Still I am here; I have looked close at deer, fox and hedgehogs in the park and garden edges; found the by-pass lupins and the buzzard; stretched out undisturbed in the big cemetery by the main road.

But now it is time to get back to my wood. What has been happening there?

A whole season of changes to explore.