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I peered deeply into a water trickling  dyke clustered by pale blue and green peebles.
“Oh dear I sometimes dig too deep or maybe not diffidently.
Damon Deep thinker, lost in thought type.”
There is that mind of mine appearing to write my words for me.
It’s always been like this for this wayfarer.
But not for long as I symbolically dragged myself and my knapsack away.
From a heavenly hypnotising spot.
There were beguiling distractions at my feet ironically that tantalise.
The erect unwinged  stem of the figwort whose lipped structure bore maroon and green coloring, circular leafs pointy and toothlike could also emit a disagreeable odour.
Also the garlic mustard, wild flower with seedpods  on rotund stalks, heart-shaped pale green leafs with white petals.
In tandem with the wild angelica, this short-lived perennial or annual, a bearer of purple hued stems and oval umbels of tiny white or pale pink flowers in the latter part of summer.
To say the least stunning and temporary immobiliser of my feet
Up a scattered thin crystal  slope that taxes the bones but fleetingly.
Tangents of a hazy backcloth from an impactful first light as well.
I am an urban setting lover at heart but dream of importing even mentally the joys of city surrounds and outskirts
At the top of the slope I’m  facing an antiquated though charming farmhouse which in some quaint way had a town allure with modern radio  music in circulation.
Asiatic motif decorative urns did abound on close inspection.
Another sign and synonym for city life.
“Shrieks of children in the environs. And the waft of nutritious food to boot.”
I digress but only momentarily.
This is something that I the wanderer often did.
I had the liberty at this stage to explore my inner and outer world whilst wearing out all my shoe leather.
“Relationships of the deep personal kind and what was going on around me never sacrificed.”
Not in the strict sense though my imagination at times for events and things were both endearing asset and cumbersome “liability.”
My thoughts circulating like directionless traffic.
The previous love of my existence somehow uncannily disappeared at least from my circle and cycle of events.
It was a gradual fading that was just barely palpable.
So many times this had happened.
All this as I am heading towards the nearest ineffable   town of charms.
I was in the privileged position to indulge this bohemian lifestyle.
The drifter, the migrant, the wanderer who paused by doing casual work as top up.
There were full time posts too.
“Oops …. hello ?
Be careful
I saw you earlier.
Muttering I think about trenches and dykes.”
Two ladies oozing charisma and cordiality.
Imagine I hadn’t even noticed?
They both were casually wrapped to greet that morning sting one can encounter in all enchanting millieus.
They probably thought I was a clueless tourist.
A close friend once said of me I’m almost lost inside myself.
Though it never really interfered with my relationships
I revert to  these two ladies were they,  Chloe or Clementine not quite cognisant due to  inconvenient frosted gust
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