A Sensational Banquet

A cold north-easterly air stream had swept away latterly persistent grey clouds. The sun shone from a clear blue sky. In leaf-dappled sunlight, sheltered from a brisk cold breeze, I felt deliciously sharp contrasts between pools of dark cool shade and brilliant warm sunlight.
I rested on the moss softened bole of a long-fallen tree to listen to the music of the place, sounds as old as time; the occasional buzzing of a bee; the babbling of the stream, audible dynamics of wing beat and fettered water flow. Above and around me phrases of birdsong orchestrated with a rhythmic soughing of treetop breezes and with more distant sounds; caws of crows and ravens, buzzards meows.
Near to the stream, the redolence of desuetude and decay familiar in damp shady places vied with the more potent aroma of wild garlic. Away from the water, fragrances percolated from myriad flower and tree blossoms, subtly scenting the air. Contrasting odours, foetid and sweet, confirming the the truth of all life depending on a perpetual cycle of death and regeneration.
A canopy of translucent fresh leaves dappled viridescent sunlight falling into mossy shade. Transient highlights on the ripples and splashes of the stream flashed shafts of prismatic colour, a vision of reflections from a flow of innumerable diamonds. Intense light, deep shade, colour, form – essences of of being.
I had felt, heard, smelt and viewed the quiddity of a flake of time in Dollar Glen. My lunch, a tasty soup of wild garlic and nettle leaves gathered there, completed the feast.