Scattered footsteps.
A thought from my hill…
“The more one learns of this intricate interplay of soil, altitude, weather, and the living tissues of plant and insect (an intricacy that has its astonishing moments, as when sundew and butterwort eat the insects), the more the mystery deepens. Knowledge does not dispel mystery.”
― Nan Shepherd
Hello lovely readers and writers of words.
Welcome back to A hill and I - The days have been filled with hour after hour of rain this week; a billowy curtain of drizzle, drench you in seconds kind. Heavy grey cloud has sat gloomy and stubborn on the hill and all others that we sit amongst flattening everything into a silent glumness, including me!
I walked up the hill after work yesterday evening just as the sun burst through the clouds, finally emptied at last of their burden, shone silver November light through the grasses. As dusk began to stretch out across the horizon I watched empty husks shining and dancing in the breeze wondering; where do all the seeds end up, how far distant are they scattered?
I have trodden many ancient paths on this hill I live on. Created new paths and resurrected those that have been lost to brambles and undergrowth where woodland escapes into light. The path that follows the ridge, on mostly rocky, infertile soil, a path I have left many thousands of footprints on, was ploughed into the hill today…
Scattered footsteps.
A path trodden by many centuries of footsteps is ploughed into hill and land, seeds are planted in the reclaimed land, in those many thousands of steps, my own included. They mingle with the ancient and decayed.
Birds come, scavenge for seeds fallen on fallow ground, leave behind their own steps, interwoven with steps of boar, deer and hare. All, seeds and footsteps are ploughed into the rocky earth; fragmented, perhaps with memory of shape.
All those years, this land is nourished, sun and rain, leaves of silver birch, chestnut pine and oak. The waste of all creatures, this, also, will nourish rocky soil. In time, not so distant, those seeds will germinate in myriad the interwoven steps, ripen, be harvested, seed separated from plant; nourishment or warmth for cattle.
Great herds of these cattle roam from ridge to valley, fertilise other pastures, other hills and here too, the land will be tilled and planted, seeds will repeat their cycle in thousands upon thousands of other footsteps from different trodden paths, ancient and new.
Footsteps scattered with seeds, seeds scattered by footsteps…
— SLM
“The first law of ecology is that everything is connected to everything else.”
― Nan Shepherd, The Living Mountain
I’m sending warm sunny wishes from my hill for a peaceful weekend to you all, thank you for being here.
Susie x
Heres what I’ve been reading and loving this week :
James Roberts speaks of a world of esthetic emptiness. A thoughtful essay worth reading.
Alexander Crow’s journal of four months living in woodland in Western Scotland, with nothing but the elements and nature for company is completely captivating, he posts an update regularly to notes and all can be found in publications. An enviable journey of self discovery.
Ryan Pfeiffer tells us why The Snowy Owls Are Coming For Us and why it’s a good thing!
...to many more thousands of footprints, SLM 🙏🏼
Hi Susie, such nice writing about nature and the connectivity with everything alive, including humans. I believe you often wondering in silence the beauty of nature and let this beauty into your heart. We are all part of a bigger plan, just a little part of it and that makes us humble and grateful Xx Dave