This morning I woke to the sun filtering through my window. The light was soft and fluffy like cotton wool and it called me to go walking on the mountainside once more. The air was warm and dry, unusual weather for this time of year. The winter here is usually rainy and cold in February.
I walked the steep path with my friend, enjoying the fresh cold air on my face and blowing away the cobwebs I had accumulated over the last few months. The paths were green and vibrant with the promise of an early spring and the trees were multiple shades of green and brown. From a distance they looked like the earth coloured section of a child’s much loved paintbox, with the colours blurring into each other like melting moss.
The purple wild iris and violets bravely popped up through the new fresh grass and waved their heads in welcome. Signs of spring were everywhere on the mountain, the new flowers, the buds on the trees, the birds singing sweetly in the bushes around us.
The path narrowed and became difficult to tread, the path strewn with rocks and boulders from the recent heavy rains and earth tremors on the island. We turned a corner and found the path to be completely blocked, the huge limestone boulders looking like they had been thrown from the top of the mountain in anger, by some gargantuan ancient creature.
We stopped briefly to admire the forces of nature, and saw a huge nest on an overhanging branch over the path. Maybe it was an eagle or buzzard? The birds were not there on the nest, or flying above us today. The nest looked forlorn without them. Have they already raised their young because the winter has been so mild this year? Usually they are circling overhead and calling to their young as you walk quietly on the path. I hope they are healthy and raising their young somewhere else where they are safe.