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Clock Time - Thursday 11/08/11

We arrived back at Lammas as London rioted. Even as other major cities followed suit, I couldn't have cared less.
We are re-adjusting at our own leisurely pace. Mother and baby appear to have taken the transition in their stride.
The land here is bursting with natural abundance. The hedgerows are voluminous and already harbour young fruits. The fields are shorn of their latest fleece of grasses.
I watched two tractors cut and gather grass on a section of field I scythed earlier this year. I took a relaxed week. They, barely ten effortless minutes.

Once again, I find myself milling timber and helping Ayres on a build I dug the foundations for one year ago. The two I tamped in the process, shed its bruised nail only a week or two ago. The anniversaries seem everywhere yet serve little purpose.
Psychological clock time. It is redundant and meaningless here.

Ayres' Build


M Jones

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