Bench

Set on the exposed chalk grassland hillside of Martin Down is this memorial bench to a Dawn V Beedle on which are carved some fine words. 'Tread softly now the downland paths and let your spirit soar', Dawn V Beedle must have loved these downs. And why wouldn't you. Fine words indeed. It would surely be rude or disrespectful not to heed them.  So, I walked the downland paths, and indeed my spirit soared.  Autumn is turning to winter and with it the weather, chill winds raked the down over which the carrion birds hovered and crowed their songs, grey clouds threatened rain and even dropped a drip or two, and there was ever present that treat of worse weather lurking, that said, occasionally the Sun did brake through illuminating the landscape like a benevolently roaming Eye of Sauron, momentarily turning back time to late summer. Which was nice.  The land looks so bare, the woodlands skeletal. At this time of year every thing's opened up, you can see into those places, across and through those vistas which were shielded and shrouded at springs verdant growth. The last leaves are falling, as are any remaining fruits and you can feel that the land is taking a well deserved rest. There's beauty in all the seasons if you look.