In the March Garden the first few bars of the opening movement of Spring warm our winter-locked-up lives with promise. Earth is waking from winter rest – the thawing of frozen hopes bringing a foretaste of better things. Dreams have kept us going when times have been rough, now they are turning into reality.
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Did William Wordsworth ‘wander lonely as a cloud‘ through the Lakeland Fells? Was he the solitary poetic genius writing some of the greatest nature poetry in the English language? His sister Dorothy’s Grasmere Journal reveals a slightly different picture.
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About Wordsworth’s Lakeland people say “You may leave the Lake District, but once you’ve been, it’ll never leave you…” His unforgettable poetry rings through these hills and dales and over this lovely Grasmere lake – ‘The loveliest spot that man hath ever found’. This post has had 5.5 K views.
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The wonder and mystery of woods has always fascinated us. They are the stuff of fairy stories, legends and much of our English literature. Those that are left, like the New Forest (above), are ‘the guardians of our dreams of greenwood liberty of our wildwood, feral, childhood selves’. (Roger Deakins)
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A Listening Heart 