Algy thought that perhaps he had absorbed enough salt water and sand for a while. It took him all morning to clean his feathers after his night-time adventure on the beach, so he decided to try a much drier and more sheltered environment for a change. After flying inland for an hour or so, he alighted in an open woodland where the steep slopes were covered in masses of beautiful heather. It was a gorgeous early autumn day, and the air was warm and full of the fragrance of honey. Reclining on a soft bed of heather flowers, Algy laid back and relaxed in the sunshine, idly watching the late bees, and thinking of an old poem that he loved:

High waving heather ‘neath stormy blasts bending,
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars,
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,
Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,
Man’s spirit away from its drear dungeon sending,
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.

All down the mountain sides wild forests lending
One mighty voice to the life-giving wind,
Rivers their banks in their jubilee rending,
Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,
Wider and deeper their waters extending,
Leaving a desolate desert behind.

Shining and lowering and swelling and dying,
Changing forever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,
Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.

Algy hopes that if your spirits have been trapped in drear dungeons, they will ascend this weekend and you will have a happy, relaxing time xoxo

[Algy is quoting the poem High Waving Heather by the 19th century English writer Emily Brontë.]

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