Satisfaction

Should any of us arrive in Paradise Garden our delight would last a year or so before we looked around for something better. A chapter in Michael Foley's book "The Age of Absurdity" explains with wisdom and humour the fate of modern man and woman never to know satisfaction. Our attainment of each desirable leads only for us to wish for the next along the line. Another side to our angst is the nagging feeling among those who've won the jackpot that much as we've longed for it it's not as fulfilling as it would be if we had earned it. In short we're never satisfied.

Those who stride out on Blacka this morning as I did (actually not true - I hobbled) may well enjoy an experience as close to perfection as it gets. But I earned mine, not just because I struggled on a sprained ankle but also because I walk here each day in all weathers. I couldn't swear that I therefore got more satisfaction than others. But I was here early enough to have it to myself. That also needs qualifying: the wildlife was plentiful from hares in the pasture land to geese honking overhead. Such was the stillness, the hazy dawn sunlight and the gentle warmth that we could have been sharing Paradise. Listing the ingredients seems a bit too mechanical. But even so it's worth the effort lest it fades from the memory. There really are not many mornings like this.

The light was that favourite of mine, early sun forcing through haze. Hares were racing through the grassland. Five geese were flying south. Stags had settled into the leggy heather and bulging bilberry. Hinds in a group further on were also enjoying the radiant heat on their backs after a cool night. Musical accompaniment was provided by many contributors. A larger bird flew low over the shrubs pursued for a bit by smaller ones: the first cuckoo. Arriving at a birch he briefly confirmed this.

Cue for some Delius?