Walk it out

Sheep on the byway from the Nettlebed estate to Nuffield, May 14

Walking it out may be the answer. I did 7 miles this morning. The astounding thing is that Thistle, who is a small French Bulldog, did the whole walk too, and didn't complain once, and didn't even pick a fight with another dog. I'd like to call it the cheese tour - we started in Bix, and walked to Highmoor, skirted Nettlebed and back home through Nuffield. The bluebells are fading now, but there is cow parsley (Queen Anne's Lace) everywhere, and white hawthorn, and the hedges are filled with young oak. Big, billowy flat-bottomed fairweather clouds, luminous green beech, finches and larks and starlings, wood pigeons and rooks. And lambs everywhere, snoozing gently in the sunshine. Yes, walk it out, I say.

One of the wise Buddhist teachers I follow on Instagram, and I don't remember which one, so forgive me, suggested the other day that anything that comes your way, just say "thank you." I've tried to adopt this idea. With varying success, I might add. But this morning, oh my goodness, there wasn't anything else to say. How can we possibly begin to appreciate all this useless beauty?