We had just finished dismantling the large round bale of sweet-smelling hay, moving it armful by armful through the narrow passage into the hay store.
The alpacas were thrilled to be clearing up after us, yet it was still grey Welsh dismal damp.
And then – the sun shone – for the first time in days.
How different the world looks when there is light.
Just long enough to see the waning hydrangea in all its glory.
And remind me that endings have a beauty of their own.
The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.
Surprises that come awake+ John O’Donohue, third and fourth verses of the blessing: At the end of the year
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.
~ See the first two verses in yesterday’s post: Receiving the gift of endings