The idea of this blogg site came after I read “A Blackbirds Year” by Miles Richardson. Through the words of his book I was reminded of the reverence and awe I used to have for all things nature when I was younger. After suffering a severe depression I found myself in a very dark place. It was that spark, which had been ignited in me when I was young, that was one of the things that helped me to get as far out of that dark place as I have come. Though still struggling today, I have tried to take back that childhood wonder. To learn, again, how to really experience nature. Using my own take on mindfulness, I often find myself simply stopping and listening. Listening to the songs of the birds and to the other conversations in nature. The whispers of the air as it moves through the grasses or nudges the leaves up in the trees. Or the sound of the wind as it barges down our streets and alleyways and through our gardens, where it howls around the branches which bend and creak in protest.  So I called it

Aeolian Whispers – the whispers on the wind.

Where the grey skies, that have just past, lie,

And the whispered words are just the birds

Who talk of Bumblebees and Butterflies and all things on the wing,

Of Robins, Wrens and Blackbirds, and other feathered folk that sing.

From the hilltops to the woodlands, and all that’s in between

From the soil to the leaves of red and gold and green.

From the frozen snow of winter, to the warmest summer sun

From the frustration of an empty nest, to the joy of the fledglings flown and gone.

Hearing the song birds in the garden, or the Buzzards flying high,

Or watching Willow and Hazel shrub or just a blue expanse of sky

From my daily patch and garden, to holidays far away,

This is my description of the nature,

That we might encounter day by day.