Weaving Tapestries, Painting Pictures, Dreaming Dreams

The last of the guests have left after breakfast, I sit alone, happy and replete after a delicious and most satisfying meal, enjoying the solitude of the wooden deck, barely disturbed by the waiter quietly going about his work of laying the tables for lunch. There is a peace here that helps me relax and for once I put away the million worries which I constantly carry around in my mind and I begin to observe my surroundings in detail. There are a number of flower pots scattered all around, surrounding me with a blaze of colour. Bees buzz over the flowers, sometimes sitting over the remnants of our breakfast. Some tiny insects too are attracted by the vivid hues and crawl all over the flowers A fine newly formed spider’s web glints in the sunshine. Before me the water gushes as it cascades over a weir and the Berounka river flows onwards on its course. Ducks stand on top of the weir picking their meal as the water flows over it. Some ducks swim along in twos and threes making a V in the water as they go. The only other sound is of birds somewhere close. Across the weir there stands just one house, a narrow little red house with a long sloping red roof. These long sloping roofs seem to be an architectural feature here as I have seen some others too but this house attracts my attention as it is narrower than any I have seen and stands alone, bright and red, framed by the greens of the forest behind it, It arouses my curiosity and many questions arise in my mind, questions which will never be answered or at least not in this trip. I noticed this house last night from our window as the lights from its two windows and their reflections were the only ones visible on that side. Perhaps some reclusive fisherman lives there alone, or perhaps a crotchety old man, or perhaps a writer or artist or perhaps it is the weir keeper’s house. For some reason the idea of a woman or even a family living there does not appeal to the romantic in me. I dwell on its mystery for a while but cannot think of any suitable answers and so turn my attention elsewhere, Behind the low lying forested hillsides, smoke rises from an unseen house. A lone fisherman prepares to cast his line into the river from the opposite bank. The sun has risen higher and gently warms me into a comfortable state out of which I am reluctant to climb out of. I will have to move at some point, but not just now, now is the time to allow my soul to just absorb all this.

**************************************************************************************