Lazing in the Shade
I’m writing this with my eyes closed and a straw hat pulled down over my face. I'm lying in long grass beneath an oak tree, scribbling onto a pad that rests beside me, and enjoying the relative cool of shade on an otherwise scorchingly hot July afternoon.
You could say I’m ‘lazing’ – lounging comfortably, with no real intention of doing anything other than nothing, resting here in my midsummer spot on the Welsh border. But the word ‘lazing’ doesn’t do it justice, given that I’m in Wales. The Welsh term for my activity, says Google translate, is ‘Ling di long’ meaning ‘carelessly lazing’. It’s true. I’m without care or concern, lazing away my afternoon, hoping the slowness of my unwinding will take as ‘long’ as it needs.
How wonderfully irresponsible and unproductive of me – ‘taking it easy’, ignoring all my responsibilities. At moments like this, I am indeed an idler who's most content to be absorbing the moment.
Time and place...for a nap
I came here with the intention of sitting quietly and reading a book. But the oppressive heat slowed my actions and page turns became decidedly 'snoozy'. So I decided to get comfy and have a nap. I laid my tweed jacket* on the grass and sprawled out upon it.
*The jacket was carried knowing that it would not be worn but instead be used as my bedding. So, truth be known, I subconsciously planned this indulgent laziness from the beginning.
I lay on my back, looking up through the branches of the oak to see swallows swooping and climbing in a cloudless sky. I then snuggled down into the cool silk lining of the jacket and closed my eyes. That was some time ago. I can’t say exactly when, as I don’t carry a watch when I’m out and about, but I’d say it was an hour or two ago. (The sun has moved quite a way to my right and is perhaps ten degrees lower in the sky.) So I must be approaching ‘afternoon snack’ time. Shame I didn’t bring any cheese ’n’ pickle sandwiches or ginger beer.
Thinking of, and doing, 'nothing'
This time of afternoon would normally see me taking a tea break, while preparing myself for the final push at work before heading home. So it feels good to be relaxing so completely – knowing that I have no jobs to do today.
Well, that’s not true. I have loads of things I could be doing, but I’m doing my best to clear my mind of anything that’s not part of the 'here and now'. It would be too easy to start thinking of jobs to do when I get home, or projects I could start, or things that are overdue. (Completing the limited edition preview of Nature Escape, and thus concluding the magazine era of Fennel’s Journal, is bearing down on me, but I’ll let it go...for now.)
As Victor Hugo said, “To contemplate is to toil, to think is to do. The crossed arms work, the clasped hands act. The eyes upturned to Heaven are an act of creation”. As a creative person I find it difficult to calm my mind, and would normally celebrate its creative restlessness, but I’m doing fine today. Perhaps it has something to do with that pint of ale I had with my lunch. Hmmm. Yes, that would explain a lot.
Whiling away one's time
I’m going to stay here until dusk, enjoying the settling of day and arrival of the witching hour when bats will flit above me and foxes will be on the prowl. But that’s a while away yet. Presently I’m occupied with ‘whiling away’ the afternoon.
If you get chance, 'disappear' for a while to find a warm and quiet spot in which you can idle contentedly. It’s the gift of the moment, found when all else is calm.
If you like this blog, you might like Fennel's countryside book The Quiet Fields. You might also like to subscribe to the Fennel on Friday weekly email. You'll receive either a blog, video or podcast sent to you in time for the weekend.