Covid Reflections

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WALKS ALONG THE WELLOW BROOK 

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Like many others I have found great solace in the walks I have done since the Coronavirus changed our lives.  I had thought I knew my local area well but during the past 15 months I have discovered new paths and revised considerably my opinion of this corner of Somerset.  I would have said that it was attractive working farmland but it has proved to be much richer than that.  Regular walking and exploration have logged the seasons and the wildlife.  I have registered my first sightings of migratory birds, the first primrose and the subtle alterations to the colour palette of each month.  Above all I have witnessed the changing moods of the Wellow Brook.  It has proved to be a reliable friend; constant, playful, moody, and most of all, there.  So many losses have occurred during this trial.  Loved ones have died, freedoms have been curtailed and employment ceased.  The Wellow Brook and I have measured this time together.  It chuckles at me when the water level drops in Spring and Summer, it surges dangerously close in full spate, it carries man’s rubbish and debris from fallen trees during flood and provides cool respite in stultifying heat.  

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At times I walk alongside it, matching my pace to its flow, feeling the stresses relieved by its regular heartbeat.  Other sections of the walks allow me to cross its path and test my fitness against the steepest of hills on either side.  I note the signs of the history it has witnessed; old colliery workings, tank traps and pill boxes from the Second World War and the defunct Somerset and Dorset railway line, known to locals even in its hey-day, as the Slow and Dirty.  I have made new friends on my journeys, animal and human.  Contacts however fleeting become inestimably precious.  Many “strangers” need to exchange more than just a “good morning” and a bond based on shared hardships builds between us.

Sounds ricochet back and forth over the valley of the Wellow Brook; the donkey’s stentorian bray, the skylark’s fluting call and, regrettably, the roar of the ubiquitous delivery van.  Never again will I take my home turf for granted; I acknowledge its beauty, its ability to adapt to the changes each century brings and its timelessness.  Above all I am thankful that I am here, at this time, and can find peace beside the Wellow Brook.

Lavinia Corrick

21 June 2021

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GAIA

Mother Earth has been such a comfort to so many of us in Lockdown.  Walks, walks and yet more walks.  I’ve been lucky to live in the country.  I can just open my door and I’m in fields.

Initially there was a joy and I have to admit a certain smugness in being on the edge of lovely countryside.  I was starting to think that this Lockdown lark wasn’t so bad after all!  And then the demon of loneliness struck…

It was triggered by an illicit hug with a friend.  I drove home in tears realising that I hadn’t been touched by another human being for months.  The stain of the hug left a deep ache and a yearning as I felt both a visceral and existential aloneness.  I didn’t know how to console myself.

I sobbed for hours. Utterly desolate.  And then I remembered my old therapist telling me to let Mother Earth hold me and I went out in search of a tree.

It took a while.  I needed to be completely private.   One where dog walkers and Covid exercisers wouldn’t pass and gawk at me.  It needed a hollow I could sit in and a trunk I could lean against.  I found her.

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