At this time of year especially as I turn into the driveway at Hayford and cross the threshold that leads to home I feel as if I cross over into a magical kingdom guarded by tall and proud Beech trees lining the driveway like magnificent sentinels, while at their feet sentries of ferns welcome me home with a silent fanfare of iridescent green waving to a symphony of birdsong.
Usually as I walk up the driveway Walt Whitman or Rabindranath Tagore poems spring to mind, but this morning my task was of recording this beautiful place I've called home for over fifteen years, as I prepare to move I decided to film the house and the garden and the land as a precious visual reminder. And the poem that came to mind this morning was......Emily Dickenson, 'I Dwell in Possibilty' because that's what I have to keep reminding myself so that I can let go of my attatchment to here and her poem helps me do that...
I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –
Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –
Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –
