National Writing Day: The View From My Window.

Preparations for Lydney Yacht Club’s Summer Rally are in full swing and our days have been filled with committee meetings, poster printing, frog painting (wooden ones, of course) and all of the activity associated with a village fete by the riverside. However, today is National Writing Day, so it is time to take a break from all things ‘boaty' and get down to some real work. This year’s theme is ‘The View From My Window’, and everyone is encouraged to consider the scene from their casement, and write what they see. Have a go and then post it on social media.

The view from my window

My spirits always rise with the hill. As I crest the brow, I am constantly surprised by the beauty of this place. In winter, the knoll wears a diadem of white crystal, barbed, ebony black against the leaden sky. In springtime, the summit is crowned with clouds of May blossom, while in summer, waves of soft, green grass flow to the valley below, rippling in the upland breeze. But the hill is never as beautiful as it is in autumn. The ridge, a gold-edged saucer, brims with milk-warm mists; the hedgerows stand bauble-bright with haws, hips, sloes and blackberries and the lane is laid with a carpet of leaf-leather. From the silken lining of a spiked horse chestnut shell, a glossy conker is birthed, a reminder that this is a season caught between summer and winter, between life and death. Thorns on a bed of silk. The prayer book mustiness of mushrooms and wood fires fills the air. A prayer of remembrance for lost seasons, written on the rustling pages of fallen leaves. Apple-rosy men working in the fields turn their collars against the chilly air, foretelling the icy blasts that will soon cut adrift the last lingering leaves and shake the slumbering poppy seeds from their pepper pots. Migrant birds chatter on the wire, exchanging travelers’ tales before taking flight.