SMALL GREEN HORSES

In one of the frequent pauses enjoyed by laid-back gardeners everywhere, I was gazing this morning at the mass of wild greenery across the road when my unprepared eye was caught by a rhythmically undulating movement that proved to be the feathery white manes of small green horses, loping gently along the meadowside on their way into the forest.

Blinking back into what we generally agree is reality (with some political exceptions), I saw that that particular morning-angle of the sunshine had combined with the slight down-mountain breeze to transmogrify the tall elegant roadside ferns into the manes of cantering jade horses.

Ferns are fine enough, but how much finer are the lacy white manes of small green horses! In a welcome continuation of the pause for purposes of further musing on the matter, I pondered the deep connection pertaining between apparently disparate things, as for example the shape, movement and purpose of ferns and manes; not to mention the always available power of every element of our natural everyday lives, if we can but get out of the way for a moment, to engender endless streams of folk tales and myths and stories to tell the children, wherewith perhaps to free their eyes and make their minds all the more their own.