We were late. Was it possible to complete the walk around the lake before nightfall?
We can turn around if necessary, I said. Thus encouraged, we started the walk that’s cherished by so many people. Whether it’s because of the wren that jumps around in the undergrowth, the sheep on the meadow, the soft call of the bullfinch, hovering buzzards, squealing ducks or the blue flash of the kingfisher, I do not know.
But one thing is certain, people love the area and so do I.
The eastern light our spires touch at morning,
The light that slants upon our western doors at evening,
The twilight over stagnant pools at batflight,
Moon light and star light, owl and moth light,
Glow-worm glowlight on a grassblade.
O Light Invisible, we worship Thee!
Keep your faith in beautiful things;
in the sun when it is hidden,
in the Spring when it is gone.
Roy R. Gibson