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This single daffodil is growing outside the back of the Launde Stables building, just by the door of my office. It's all alone.  Around the site there are Spring flowers everywhere as the sun brightens and the world warms up again. A row of daffodils lines the path to the main house, and beautiful they are too.  But I'm particularly appreciative of this one. Daffodils everywhere, but this one chooses to spring up near me, well off the beaten track. And it's not only the daffodil. We have squirrels aplenty, but one which frequents the Shepherds Huts near my office and sometimes comes down to cadge a hazelnut off me. A muntjac deer that favours this quieter corner. A robin who's marked his territory in the gardens. There's life everywhere in this world, abundant in all places. But these sparks have landed right beside me, and they're my particular delight. It doesn't take much.  ///appeal.grad.clocking

We went with the grandbairns to the Scottish Deer Centre this morning. An amazing place. First, they have deer: red deer, reindeer, hog deer, muntjac deer, and loads of other breeds. And they have Scottish wildcats, otters, and birds of prey, and lynx and wolves. They also have a miniature train, a play area, a cafe and a shop. And a double decker bus, tractor, fairy wood, treetop walk, soft play area, go carts and funny distorting mirrors. And a crepe van in the woods, and a bomb disposal lorry repurposed as a chip van (see above) and a massive dinosaur skeleton and a decommissioned buccaneer fighter plane.  It's a mad collection of stuff, most of which has no obvious connection with deer. It's hard to imagine the thought process which led someone to think a double decker and a fighter plane would help improve a deer centre. We spent half the time coming round the next bend in the path and asking ourselves: "Why the heck is this here?" As a result it was...

The seasons are turning and I'm starting to travel home at dusk now, not in thick darkness. It's always a great time of year, with the promise of spring hovering in the frosty air. The mornings are bright and days are getting noticeably longer. And the countryside is waking up a little: more birds singing, more skittering in the undergrowth, more deer looking up startled through the leafless branches as I tootle past. Not long now until the evenings really start to light up and we think about changing the clocks to make the most of it.  I love the hopefulness of this time of year.

In many paintings, sculptures and drawings of the Last Supper you see this intimate moment where the apostle John leans over, almost embracing Jesus (this photo is the reredos in Launde's chapel, where I'm writing this right now after Midday Prayer). It's a depiction of a moment in John's gospel where the Beloved Disciples is described as "reclining next to Jesus" and enjoying a private conversation with him. Which doesn't quite with visually when you place the figures on chairs around the table, but is a lot less strange when you remember that the custom in those days was literally to recline for a meal: to lie down on one side, propped up on an elbow, with your fellow diners either side of you like sardines in a tin - very cosy! And since most people are right handed it was usual to prop yourself in on your left elbow, meaning the person to your right was especially well positioned for a quiet, confidential chat. That's one of the reasons...

That's not my photo, more's the pity, it's a stock photo from Unsplash. I wasn't fast enough, you see, to get a picture of my own.  A couple of years ago I was riding along the Leicestershire back roads when I came around a bend and saw three white harts. Beautiful, pure white stags, just standing in the middle of this country lane. It was so astounding, I wondered if I might be having some kind of vision of the Trinity. It was like a moment from Celtic mythology. I don't think I'd have been entirely surprised if, like Aslan or Balaam's Ass, they'd spoken to me. It turned out that the deer had been brought in by a local wedding venue but had escaped their confinement. I didn't see them again, but I heard they'd never been recaptured.  Fast forward: this morning, on exactly the same lane, at exactly the same spot, I found myself face to face with nine  fawns in the road. Three brown. Three partly brown and partly white. And three pure ...

A Song of Sophia There wére yet no óceans, but Í was his daúghter— befóre ancient hílls was Í given bírth, befóre every spríng burst aboúnding in wáter, befóre he scáttered the dúst of the eárth. The Lórd wove me ínto the wórld’s new foundátion, the Lórd brought me fórth as the fírstborn of áll; and, whíle he fáshioned, I dánced with elátion as cháos found fórm in replý to his cáll. Cóme now and heárken: I crý in the ópen, whére the paths meét do Í take my stánd, seéking the foólish, the wáyward, the bróken, yeárning to táke every óne by the hánd. My hoúse I have buílt, seven píllars uphóld it, the táble is sét with a rích feast and wíne. Come and wélcome! For hére you belóng, be then bóld: sit besíde me, enjóying as yoúrs all that’s míne. (check out my previous post for the background to this poem)