Two Magpies, Two Kingfishers and a splash.

here/june 2020

There were two magpies sitting on the cross this evening; one on the top looking east, the other on the cross-arm looking south. I saluted them as i drove home and whispered ‘two for joy’.

The cross is on the brow of the hill if you arrive from east or west, in the dip if you arrive north and south. It was hit recently by someone who took the bend too fast but the village have repaired it carefully and you could never tell. 

Tonight no one is around, just myself returning from a river swim down in the valley and Simon who swirls around this place in all our thoughts and concerns; his house is on the other side down in the village. I take the two magpie as a good omen.

As I turn into the track that takes me home, a badger runs across in front of me and I slow down so as not to disturb her. I’m not sure she is female, but she moves with a speed that surprises me; I have always thought the badger to be slow and ponderous. Perhaps that applies now to me.

I’m no longer a spring chicken, sprightly lamb nor darting kingfisher. 

Two of them flashed past in an electric haze of orange and blue as I swam earlier and they made the clouds of iridescent-green dragonflies seem almost plain in comparison. The season of swimming in the river has started, the dragonflies are mating and the frogs on the bank gossip and chuckle when I dive in.

Though, to be honest, I no longer dive in; I slip in, stepping from tree root to submerged rock slowly and carefully. Then I swim with the same speed, though every now and then I throw my arms into a clumsy crawl just to see if I still can. 

The river, the kingfishers, dragonflies and magpies, the badger and the cross are part of this place but I am a visitor; enjoying their company. I marvel at their vitality, I wonder at their beauty, and I wish on their paring.

One for sorrow.

Two for joy.

I am alone as I pass, but someone is waiting for me at home.

I am lucky.

I hope Simon is too.