It was just one of those weekend days that I stopped and actually listened – I keep trying to remember that I have two ears and one mouth, so I am trying to spend more time focusing on the ‘two‘ rather than ‘one‘.
My Mum still lives in our wonderful family home with a magical garden, and there is still that smell in the garden that I recall as a child – it smells of hope and being grateful for lovely happy days.
I remember thinking I hope heaven has a garden like this (I was probably 6) – as I looked up from reading Arthur Ransome’s “Pigeon Post” under the trees.
So there I was a few weeks ago and I stopped – and heard what sounded like the same wood pigeons, on the same branches, on the same beech trees – having the same conversations.
“Whoo hoooo whooo hoooo ho ho” the four long throaty tweets followed by two shorter tweets. Then cousin pigeon replies with exactly the same four long throaty tweets followed by two shorter tweets. It was exactly the same noises the wood pigeons made years ago, and again I had the same feelings of hope and being grateful.
The pigeons have no clue about their tweeting and how their conversations made me feel.
Things have changed a lot since “Pigeon Post” but the tweets on the branch made me smile, and made me feel better on a day that hadn’t started so great.
Sometimes it’s good to just stop and listen..
Aisling White
