It feels like winter's very nearly here now, which childishly excites in me strange recurring visions and softly-spoken fancies; taking to the forest and conversing with Jack-in-the-Green, accepted into the almost forgotten countryside realm of the horned God, Pan.
In such moments, i dream of the solitude of a wild, remote rural landscape as the icy darkness descends all around, making me smile as my nose glows red and my toes grow numb. Lost amongst the dense woodlands with nothing around for miles but a chilly tranquility.
Eventually a distant hostelry with a blazing log fire, a warm corner to sit in reflectlive mood, savouring the generous hospitality and the odd smile from the buxom barmaid.
Once, very many years ago, i spent a lonely winters hour waiting for a bus on a bleak country road, a cloud of bats suddenly flew overhead and circled in the moonlight. Those rare moments gazing up into the brooding skies, watching the bats have always remained with me.
While my adorably grotesque little kindred cruised the fresh night air in search of insect prey, i silently blessed them all in my heart and sighed as they vanished into my memory.
If i'm not, in my thoughts at least, to be discovered in a lonely country landscape then i am perched on a craggy old rock blissfully watching the foamy waves rear and crash against the shore, the seagulls wheeling and crying overhead as they flee inland to escape the worst of the coming storm while the barnacles idly chatter amongst themselves.
In another age, another life, i could have been a solemn but quietly satisfied keeper of a lighthouse, far removed from the intolerable babble of humanity. Nobody for company but the roving Atlantic kippers as they skipped amongst the breaking surf. Alone with the bitter elements and fierce guardian of a secret hoarde of mouthwatering provisions, huddled by a small fire, i would live long and happy on the sea of madness. 
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welshceltgirl
Bliss pure bliss