Gold, Rubies and Pearls

A lane, exquisite in all seasons

Each year I feel a sense of sadness when Summer passes, and Autumn seems to settle like a coldness coming from above. But no sooner has it come then Autumn raises its game with a spectacular show of colours that never ceases to enthral me.

It can be a brief show, and the weather may be so inclement that the desire to go out to see it is almost suppressed.  But normally I find sufficient self-motivation to go out on my bike and to enjoy the best show of the year before winter’s grip takes it from me. And so, in the past month, I’ve had quite a few really fabulous rides. 

Riding along Wenlock Edge, a flock of migrating birds flew over.  As the sun pushed its way through the mist, the mist’s last wisps clung to the clods of earth left by the farmer’s plough, as though the very earth was steaming.  Woodsmoke hung in the air, giving a homely smell of the hearth and a promise of warmth at the end of the day.  Golden leaves on the road made for skidding bicycle wheels, but they also gave an impression of riding over a road paved with gold. 


Money grows on trees - or so it seems, when you look at the golden coins hanging from the silver birch in autumn.  Copper and bronze hang from other trees, and some leaves are so red that they seem to be in flower rather than in the autumn die back.  Nuts and berries drip from branches, though the squirrels make short work of those cobb nuts left by the farmer’s clippers.  From the holly, hawthorn and dog rose hang rubies, from the snowberry, pearls.

One day many years ago a lowlife burglar stole from me, amongst other things, an eternity ring, gold set with rubies, which had belonged to my late mother.  It couldn’t have been of any great value to him but for me, it was priceless.  I missed it sorely, so strong was its association with the mother I had lost.  But gradually, as time passed, I began to see that autumn brings gifts which are also priceless.  

And so I shall always feel my mother’s presence, whenever the wild rose shows to me its bejewelled hand.

Fill that Bucket!

Recently I found myself trying to explain to a new cyclist that fitness doesn’t always come as a free gift, even though it sometimes seems as though it does when you’re young.  In making my point I found myself talking about buckets, and since then, I’ve decided it’s a good metaphor.  So with plentiful mixing of metaphors, here goes.

I have a bucket, and you have one too - we all have one.  I try to keep my particular bucket full of water but I can only use a tablespoon to fill it.  Unfortunately, there’s a hole in the bottom of the bucket and so the water drains away if I don’t keep filling it.  If I want to keep the level the same, I only have to fill it as fast as it leaks.  But if I want to fill it completely, then obviously, I need to work hard with that tablespoon. 

My husband's wee bucket...

Once it’s full, I can keep it full fairly easily by just filling it as fast as it leaks.  The trouble is, it’s hard to get it to that point - especially as the hole gets a little bit bigger each year that I get older.

Winter is just around the corner, and in winter, I tend to get lazy with my tablespoon.  The weather, the dark nights, and the odd virus, conspire to take my attention away from my bucket-filling duties.  At least five pay-per-month public gyms have benefitted from my pathetic attempts to keep my bucket full in past winters, and I’ve had more overturned new leaves than I can list. Not surprisingly then, every year in Spring I find myself with an empty bucket, and feelings of panic as I realise how much work I’m going to have to do to get it full again. 

My little bucket

I’d hate anyone to think that I’m obsessed with fitness - that’s very far from the case.  I can cycle on my own at any speed, walking pace even, and I’m quite happy to do that.  My only problem is that if I cycle with anyone else at all, I want to keep up with them, as lagging behind is no fun at all.  I like cycling with other people, and that, regretfully means having a little bit of fitness on my side - a moderately full bucket, you might say.  

So here we go again, another winter, and another resolution.  I’ve bought running shoes, and they sit on my shoe-rack, taunting me.  Wish me luck, I’ll need it.  And all the best with your buckets too!