Logo

A Taste for Life.

I sat very still in the chair and stared out the window. A small thrush was picking its way through life, foraging amongst the grass and leaves its tiny head popping up and down as if in spasm. As usual I became lost in my own world. The vacuum cleaner droned in the background and I was vaguely aware that the radio was on.
‘John, you are really going to have to do something with yourself. You can’t just sit there day after day. Goodness knows you could be a lot worse off. There are people who would give anything to be in your condition. Now come on,. Buck yourself up’.
‘I’m trying Ellan. I’m trying. It’s not that easy’, I replied knowing as usual she was right. Ellan had an annoying habit of always being right and lately we seemed to be bickering at each other most of the time.
‘Go on’, she said. ‘get yourself out for a walk. It will do you good’. I sighed, got up and put my coat on. I really did not feel like a walk but I felt I had to make some effort even if only for the sake of peace.
After the accident I was very stiff and sore which was to be expected. I am not getting any younger and the barrier which fell on me was quite heavy. I had no option but to give up my country rambles for a while. I certainly was in no condition to climb the hills overlooking the lake or take the winding trail through the woods. Three weeks after the accident I had ventured out just for a walk in the wood but had to turn back after only a few hundred yards. There was something amiss with my back and every step brought a penance which brought tears to my eyes.

I parked near the bridge so I could watch the river as it danced and surged through the winding chasm which would eventually lead to the placid calm of the Lake.
I got out of the car and made my way slowly and painfully down the short track to the riverside, cursing the pain in my back and everyone and everything that had to do with my accident.
‘Of all the rotten luck, I don’t do a whole lot in this life and even the little bit I do, well this has put the cap on that’, I muttered to myself. It was then I noticed her sitting on the large rock by the waterside, her head cocked to one side as if listening to every splash and gurgle.
‘Good morning, isn’t this a lovely place’, she said. I was surprised to see her there. This was a remote type of place, a bit off the beaten track. She was in her late sixties, well to do, her clothes had an expensive cut. Even the dark glasses looked expensive with their little gold designer motif on the side of them.
‘My daughter has just went up the track with the dogs’, she said answering my silent question.
She also answered my second un-asked question. ‘We live just up on the main road, near the bend’.
‘Well for ye’, I thought. You could not even see the house from the road because the driveway was bordered by century old trees which formed a canopy of green. The ten foot high wrought iron gates refused entry unless permission was sought from the modern intercom on the pillar. She was very easy to talk to and listened intently as I related how I was unable to walk the lush forest and look down on the river from the lofty pinnacle of the hill. I really missed my walks. She agreed with my theory that God handed out small bonus’s now and again and that even the simplest of things like a rushing stream or the smell of rain soaked pine could fill your heart with a joy that money can not buy. I think the depression I was feeling came through a bit because she muttered ‘You poor man’ a couple of times. Then it struck me that I was getting a bit carried away with my problems. To be quite honest I was turning in to a right old moan.
‘What about yourself. What brings you here’, I inquired. She sighed in a wistful sort of way.
‘Well my dear husband would have loved this place. He loved the countryside. Unfortunately we spent most of our life in cities. Some of the loveliest cities in the world but we still hoped to end our days in a place such as this. He always used to say that we should celebrate our life each day by just having a few minutes for each other and we did. For that I will always be grateful. He had a great taste for life but sadly he died six months ago so I have come to live with my daughter but I still celebrate life each day. I come here and listen to the river, smell the forest, taste the countryside.
‘A rather odd expression’, I thought. Tasting the countryside. Very apt though.

A young lady was making her way down the forest track, two excited Labradors running in all directions at once. ‘Time to go, Mom.
She rose from the rock and extended her hand. ‘It’s very nice to have met you and I hope your back is better soon’. It was only then I noticed her white cane. As I watched the two of them walk slowly towards the entrance to the wood I smiled to myself.

‘Well My Old Son, you’re never too old to learn’. I closed my eyes, took a deep sniff of the wet pines and listened to the gurgling river. That was three months ago and every week I return just to ‘Taste’ the countryside.