Wednesday, 8 August
Every day we are exploring more of the forest park across the road from us, relishing it in small sections, getting to know it like a friend. We have found secret paths among the jays and rooks. We have climbed banks of leaf litter, strayed far off pathways. I can feel my energy returning, and my appetite too. I’ve not felt very hungry for days, but as the emptiness in my head is filled with fresh sights and sounds, the emptiness in my belly needs filling with food again.
The days are developing a pattern that we’ve probably all been craving. The topsy-turvy of moving and acclimatizing is passing. We’re settling into the house and into picnics in the forest. On one of the days, the day before yesterday, a hooded crow settled at my feet. It was a juvenile male, and I could hear the scratchiness of his movements as he hopped over my leg. It made me think of a line from : “Much more surprising things can happen to anyone, who, when a disagreeable or discouraged thought comes into his mind, just has the sense to remember in time and push it out by putting in
