A lawyer for all seasons: How to take a mindful walk

I can see the colour green everywhere, the catkins wafting on the bare trees, celandines, wild daffodils, white and yellow, scatterings of blue periwinkle, the seeds of last year’s acorns that the family of squirrels overlooked, the mouldering leaves, twigs randomly scattered by the wind and trees still bare but in bud.  I can see trampled grass where I know 2 hinds come to lie, mint springing forth profusely and my dogs racing randomly around led by their noses.

I can smell spring, such a combination.  There is a green fresh smell tinged with an earthy, slightly meaty scent which I know is deer, and then as I walk further in, the pungent, unpleasant odour of fox. I reach for handful of mint to chase that away and am delighted to see a tiny patch of moss, I bend down and inhale its smell of moist, grassiness and maybe of the rain. I then smell my hands, I get the faint edge of onion and celery from the soup I made this morning.

I can hear the excited squeaks of the dogs who flush out two hen pheasants.  I can hear the drone of a tractor and the rush of the river as it makes its way down to join the bigger tributary gushing over stones.  I can hear my own breath when I stop, and also faint distant bird cheeps, I think they are nesting and this is a warning note.

I can feel the softness of my cotton sweatshirt and am conscious that my socks are a bit too thin for these wellies as my toes are rubbing a bit. I can also feel my hair whip across my face as it is a windy day and it needs a good post lockdown cut.  I also touch my face and am surprised how warm my hands are and how cool my face is.

As for my thoughts well they are running very free like images on an old cinema screen.  They are mine, not for sharing, but the one that is uppermost is I am glad to be in  nature. I hope you get chance to take a mindful walk this week.