I am trying to make an effort to take five minutes, around 11am, to stop whatever I’m doing and appreciate the things I can see, hear, smell around me. I think it’s so easy to become overwhelmed with the busyness of life that life’s simple pleasures can be overlooked or, sadly, missed altogether. I’m thinking of starting a monthly series where I describe what I can see/hear/smell from my workspace in order to make this ‘present living’ a habit. So, as I stop typing up my thesis this Friday morning in mid-August, let me take you into my five-minute revitalising elevenses time sans camera, but through description only (and a few stock online photos to add interest!):
I am sitting at my dining-room table where I have just stopped work on my thesis for five minutes. The sun is sporadically shining into the room through the full height windows, occasionally highlighting the teacup and saucer that I have laid at the end of the table. And then, the clouds hide it away again, casting a slight gloom in the room. As I look out of the window, into our back garden, I watch the keen breeze swaying our tall bamboo stems. Some of these are so abundant in foliage that they are beginning to droop – their skinny stems are finding it hard to cope with the weight of the leaves.
As I then gaze above the bamboo stems, onto the hills, I can see two horses grazing. I think there are more up there but I can only see two of them just now. As the sun’s rays peep out from the clouds and sweep across the hills, they spotlight each horse individually – it’s almost as if it were trying to turn my attention to these munching animals.
Beyond the horses, there are trees – hundreds and thousands of them. This is because it is thick woodland which goes up to the horizon and over miles of hills to join those of the neighbouring town. I have enjoyed this high woodland walk many times. Among the light and dark greens of the different types and heights of trees, there is – even now – the occasional one which is beginning to show its autumn colours. In another few weeks, the hill will be a blaze of orange and reds; that is when the hill looks its best. Owls live in those trees – we hear them at night. The army of thousands of trees act as a windbreak, or guard, over our town protecting us from the worst of the elements.
Returning in to the back garden, the honeysuckle has made good gains on the garden fence. Although I can’t smell it from where I am sitting, I know that when I sit on our bench later, its scent will be extremely pleasant. The tubs of pansies I planted in the spring are beginning to die back now – I have enjoyed them so much this year, particularly the orange-coloured ones which looked fiery in the heatwave.
The only sounds I can hear are the birds singing, especially a vociferous wood-pigeon, the rumble of a distant aeroplane on its descent to the airport, and a far-off tractor at work. The children went back to school this week and so it is deliciously quiet – at least, until they finish at lunchtime as all the schools here do on Fridays. Now, I can just make out the faint hum of traffic on the main road, but the breeze soon muffles this as it once again picks up and rustles the leaves of the bamboo, as well as those on the silver birch tree.
There is bread baking in the bread-machine. Its scent fills the kitchen and filters through to me in the adjoining room. It will be ready for lunchtime. I have a tray next to me which holds a teapot full of tea and a slice of homemade gingerbread on a plate. The blend of the scent of baking bread and that of the gingerbread evoke a sense of autumn. I love autumn – it’s my favourite season by far.
………
My five minutes is up. Time to get back to work. It has been a pleasant break, just taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of my immediate vicinity. When we move home, I will miss the hills, the trees, the horses, and the relative quietness, but I’m going to continue trying to take five minutes out to ‘live in the moment’, enjoying the things that I have access to from my workspace.
[As I finished typing this, the solitude was broken by my dogs barking which then set off several other neighbouring dogs barking too. Oops!].
June's Jottings 