Today I am grateful for the rustle of leaves in the morning breeze.
I have a garden of trees, well a Druid would, Rowan, Oak, Holly, Ash, Hazel, Hawthorn, Beech. They chart the seasons for me and teem with wildlife. My first action every morning after I switch on the kettle is to open the gate and of late I haven't bothered with it, locking out the world in my time of hermitage. A Druidic Triad says that there are
"Three sounds one should treasure: the whisper of the wind through the leaves the songs of one's heart and the callings of the universe."
This morning I was greeted by the sound of the wind rustling in the trees by the gate and it was so lovely, so primal, so life enhancing.