Fenced Inside Out

Funny how you can spend your whole life in one place and only feel like you truly see it when you're forced to get down amongst prickly sticks of fresh green grass — up close and personal.

Dew drops dissolve against the skin, cool but not quite wet, until you're back on your feet with blade-imprinted legs that look like you've been embossed a thousand times over. Wet.

A game of hide and seek with the sun, since the clouds' blanket is much thicker than yesterday's. But you're grateful, as this means you can actually bare to be outside for more than ten minutes. Although, you don't dare complain that it's too hot outside, because the weather in this country is notoriously temperamental. What about that random gust of wind that sent that table parasol clean out from a neighbour's garden and above a nearby house, earlier?

A couple of minutes into lying belly-flat on the grass and you start to notice things. Like how you’re sure birdsongs have never been this loud before. Whose making what sound, you’re not quite sure, but there’s probably a few blackbirds, some tits and a —

clk-clk-clk-clk…

clk-clk-clk-clk…

clk-clk-clk-clk…

What the—?

It’s not very loud, but it’s very distinctive. Low, like a bass note. In the symphony of nature, this bundle of feathers makes sure it distinguishes itself. And for some attempt at research later, the closest you come to figuring out what it is, is an “agitated wren”.

An agitated wren. Doesn’t seem quite write, but the culprit is nowhere to seen so you have no way of knowing what it actually looks like. Oh well, let’s just enjoy that rather unusual clk-clk-clk-clk sound.

You find yourself wishing for jazz music as the sound of your neighbour’s radio floats across the fence. You can’t quite make out the song or the singer, but it calls to you as the soul singers of your childhood did — and indeed still do.

For all the anxiety you might have felt recently, you find your ability to take a breath has been renewed. Lungs filling like that classic cliché you feel ashamed you even thought of. But there’s a certain truth to it, let it be said. Something about the blue of the sky seems more saturated than you remember seeing before. Nature’s unique temper.

The most coherent you’ve felt in weeks, for all this fictional landscape writing is a collection of unfinished thoughts. Something’s clicked again and you feel truly creative. For once, you’re writing because you want to again, not for a deadline that you love to hate. That’s what you get for studying something you love, isn’t it?

You might be fenced in today, but this is the most energy you’ve had in weeks. The most desire you’ve had in weeks. A desire to get out and explore. For all that you’ve lived here for almost twenty of your twenty-two years, you don’t really know the place.

So, today you’re lying on your belly on the grass after looking out of the window this morning and having an unusual compulsion to be outside and feel something. But that doesn’t feel like enough.

Why don’t you take a look around? Really look. I can’t wait to hear about what you find!

You’ll get up tomorrow and you’ll go somewhere you’ve never been. Look at the view that awaits you on the valley path…