The butterfly has gone, and the sunshine beckons. It’s been a long hard winter on the hills. But the chestnut trees are coming into new leaf, and that’s good enough for me. I have never been a fast walker, or a conqueror of mountain peaks, but I can plod along for miles. And that’s what I’ve been doing all my life-plodding along, singing my song, telling my tales in my own unhurried way. I have lived life at my own gentle pace, and if as a result I have failed to get to the top of the mountain (or of anything else), it doesn’t matter, the long walk has brought its own sweet rewards; buttercups and butterflies along the way.
Landour, March 2005