Bridging the Seasons

As I stood on an ancient bridge in the drizzle of a Dartmoor day, I found such shelter in this giant moss covered tree and all that surrounds it here amidst the magical wonderland of autumnal Devon splendour.

I feared my recent spell in quarantine might mean I’d miss this. This, my favourite time of year as the season turns and seems to whisper a welcome to those who are between places.

This masterpiece moment of nature reels me in like I were some gentle woodland creature nestling safely beneath those multi-coloured leaves now so surplus to that mighty tree.

I watched the grazing in peaceful surrender of a black Dartmoor pony spotted earlier hiding under those bowing branches. A little pony so untouched by the roar of the river torrent after the downpour that flooded the nearby road.

So content that pony still was, even as beads of rain trickled down its dampened back across its beautiful face right to the end of its lusciously long eyelashes – one tickly raindrop drip at a time.

Might I cross the bridge in my life where I stand knowing the same grace of that tree that so naturally sheds all that’s no longer needed.

And might I so magnificently embrace the arms of change with all the content of that dear little Dartmoor pony – and with all the wisdom of this season that knows full well the winter beauty ahead it will so bountifully bring ?

By Debbie Geraghty

Hailing from Scotland and now living in Cornwall, UK. A window gazing lover of river and clouds. A visual storyteller and wondering wanderer who tries to live deeply - but lightly.

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