I had to be outside.
A primeval urge pulled me like a magnet up to Moel y Gaer hill fort. At 10pm there was no-one else about. I stepped over black slugs on the grassy path
to the top of the hill and stood on the ramparts. When the wind stopped buffeting me for a
moment and I could hold my binoculars steady, I could just about see Blackpool
Tower lit up and in the foreground, the steely River Dee and all the glowing
lights of Liverpool. I turned around and
traced the dark, gentle mounds of the Clwydian Range, like soft scoops of
chocolate ice cream. And then the rain
came, great big spots thwacking on my down jacket. The wind picked up and blew the long grass in
waves across the flat topped hill fort and murderous clouds covered the
wavy-edged moon.
I circled the ancient
ramparts, paying my respects to Mother Nature on this longest day, apologizing for
anything I may have done to upset her. I
did squish a slug last night as it made its way over a fresh green lettuce leaf
in my veg patch. Normally I lob them
over the hedge. When I had completed the
circle, I headed down the hill with just enough light to avoid squishing any
more slugs.
A blackbird sang in the gorse scrub, oblivious of the rain
and the wind and the murderous clouds.
I’m going up again on Sunday to see the Supermoon.