An autumn evening in the dell.
You are walking along a narrow country lane as evening begins to settle over the land.
The lane is quiet.
Bounded by old stone walls.
The weathered stones,
Softened by moss and tiny ferns.
Beyond.
The fields stretch away toward the moors beneath a wide evening sky.
The last of the daylight is slowly fading from the horizon.
And there is a gentle softness in the air the stillness that comes at the end of the day.
You are walking toward the tiny village nestled at the edge of the moors.
Where the old lady has her little cabin.
It is the second time you have been here.
And the season has moved on now.
Autumn has cast its colourful cloak over the haven.
In shades of crimson and gold and bronze.
Red berries line the hedges and the air is rich with the scents of the fall of the year.
You have spent several days in this tiny village called The Dell,
Getting to know people,
Going to the shop or the inn.
Sometimes you have been for a walk.
Or sat on the porch.
This village is like a miniature version of The Haven.
The same peace and kindness in everyday life.
The same gentle,
Undemanding quality of life.
Where the days feel like a rest and the nights are healing.
The outlying farms here have sheep rather than cattle,
And you can see their white shapes dotted on the green of the fields as you walk.
The weather has been calm and golden,
No sounds but the chatter of the little streams,
And the quiet tick of gently falling leaves.
But tonight.
.
.
There is wind coming off the sea.
And the lowering clouds,
Scudding inland,
Foretell rain.
The wind is mild,
But night is coming.
And you are looking forward to getting indoors.
You can see the village ahead now.
Sheltered here at the edge of the moor.
The cottages around the little green.
Warm lights begin to glow in the falling dusk.
It feels as though the whole village is settling down for the evening.
As you pass the little inn.
You decide to stop for something to eat and drink.
A lamp outside shines a welcome.
An invitation to rest for a while.
As you step inside.
The sound of the wind is muted.
And everything becomes warm and peaceful.
The fire is lit,
Logs crackling softly.
The flames casting a warm amber glow.
The little inn is almost empty.
There are a few comfortable chairs and wooden tables.
Old beams across the ceiling.
Shelves filled with books and little objects collected over many years.
It is a cosy and welcoming place.
You choose the seat you usually do.
In a corner not too far from the fire.
On the table is a vase of glowing autumn leaves.
And a little handwritten menu.
The menu is different every day.
And each time you have found something you like.
As you read through it,
You listen to the fire and the rise of the autumn wind,
A deeper sound beyond the thick stone walls.
The innkeeper comes over with a kind smile and takes your order through to the kitchen.
Then returns immediately with your drink.
You settle back into the comfortable chair as you sip it.
Watching the fire glow.
Seeing how the lamps cast pools of soft light as,
Outside,
The wind dries it.
You turn to look out of the window and see the soft dusk fading into night.
The light of cottage windows and door lamps.
Soon,
Rain will sweep over the tell.
Across the moors and the hills beyond,
But here inside the little inn,
All is calm and warm.
The wind gusts across the chimney and tiny sparks fly up,
Like golden fireflies.
Your meal comes.
And you eat with enjoyment.
Hungry after your walk.
You feel the pleasant sensation of your stomach becoming satisfied.
Sitting back.
You finish your drink.
The innkeeper comes to take away your place.
They look out of the window.
And remark that the rain is holding off for now.
You agree and think that you will now go home to the log cabin before the rain begins.
Thanking them.
You leave the little inn.
And go out onto the village street.
Beyond.
The dark grey shape of the moors rise against the grey clouds,
Higher hills lifting beyond,
Faint shapes in the gathering dusk.
You think of the old paths winding over those moors that perhaps you might explore another day.
But not tonight.
Tonight is for staying somewhere warm.
Tonight is for rest and sleep.
The log cabin is not far.
Just up the narrow lane and you can see the lamp glowing.
Inviting you back.
You feel a faint dampness in the air.
The soft whisper of autumn rain drifting through the darkness.
But you will be indoors before it begins.
The lane and cottages are quiet.
Their curtains drawn.
Windows glowing softly.
Somewhere,
Perhaps.
An old clock is ticking somewhere else a fire is being tended.
And somewhere a little dog or cat may be sleeping beside a hearth.
The whole village seems to be resting.
And soon.
You too will rest and sleep as the rain falls and the wind blows.
Reaching the wooden gate.
You go up the path to the front door and step inside.
It is quiet and warm.
Welcoming you back.
For a moment you look down the path to the village and feel the rain start to come down then you close the door behind you,
Shutting out the night.
The sound of the rain becomes softer.
Muffled by the walls.
You hang your coat up and look around.
The little old stove in the kitchen glows warmly you close the curtains.
And then go to the bedroom and get ready for bed as you relax.
Letting your limbs loosen.
You listen to the tap of rain against the window and the rush of the wind.
You feel a sense of security and calm being here.
Ready to sleep.
And the rain falls.
Blows outside.
Gradually the little cabin seems to become quieter still just as you too.
Drift softly into deeper peace.
The darkness outside.
Feels fast and quiet.
But here.
There is warmth.
Safety.
And comfort.
In a few days.
The old lady will come here on the pony trap and you will travel together back to the haven.
There will be other quiet,
Undemanding days.
And things to do.
But tonight is just for sleep.
Your thoughts grow quieter.
You feel yourself floating towards sleep.
Here there is comfort and warmth,
And the sound of the wind and rain outside.
Beyond the window,
The dell sleeps,
And so can you.
The darkness becomes softer.
The sound more distant.
Quiet.
Lulling rhythm.
As you drift peacefully.
Deeper.
Sleep.
