Oh to lie on grass again. I didn’t know how much I have missed laying down or even just sitting on a good piece of turf and feeling the ground underneath the weight of me until in a moment of general lockdown fatigue I just found myself heading for the ground – spread-eagled in a Shavasarna corpse pose and staring at the clouds. It felt so good!
It felt even better for the fact that we were laid on Chingford Golf Course, currently out of action to players because of the restrictions. Lying down like this usually could quite easily end up with a ball in the head. And so we laid down for even longer, enjoying the weird rebellion of it all.
On closer inspection, from this lowly height, we spotted clusters of daisies in the grass, catkins and pink-tinted pussy willows swaying in the breeze and a stand of feathery reeds filtering the golden light as they do at this time every year.
I say this with the deja vu of having taken a picture of them on pretty much the same day last year and the year before. The boys squealing with joy as they steal a plume or two to have a battle with, going just near enough to the pond edge to almost fall in. There are blackthorn trees nearby and these will be flowering soon too, giving off a musky scent and powder-coating the golf course in cream blossom. One of the first harbingers of spring.
But back to lying on the ground. It has been so wet, and then snowy, and then icy, and altogether so muddy, it really has been the longest time since I saw the world from this angle. To be fair we were also lying on a hill and thus the ground was not as soggy as the turf around Wanstead Flats, our usual haunt. Roll on the 29 March and grounding down with friends too.