Then there were orchids

Then there were orchids 

Tarmac lane eventually giving way to limestone and dusty track on a gentle rise.

Warm yellow sun, testing, as we walk on.

Hedge rows, greedy for space, halted by the prohibited rocky trail.

Then there were orchids, small, delicate and  beautiful in the purest way.

On a sunny day walking with her, being with her.

An unexpected glimpse into an abandoned quarry. Looking down and upon a private place.

Not spent but shabby, weary, waiting to be rediscovered. What used to be is no more.

Now a safe haven for those that seek it. We pass on by.

Broom, wild strawberries, jewellike and dog rose lead the way to a resting place with a view.

Forest fragrance fills the air.

Sharing a blanket laid on grass, no one to see but us. No one in mind but us.

Being close to her.

Sunshine and trees as far as you can see and us blotting the peace in a playful, engaging, intimate way.

Visited by butterflies going nowhere in particular, having been somewhere and moving on. No time for us.

I am reminded that just being can be generous, when being is with her.

Looking for self I discover another and wonder at the path that brought me here.

This gentle recall will spill, on cloudy days, with what stood then and the prospect of finding that path again.