Just as I was considering the soul of the world I came across three small feathers down beside the lake.
The soul I was thinking, is probably not something that is inside of us at all, but maybe is something that is outside of us and connected to the world. We feel the soul whenever we are at home in the world and it is harder to feel when we we are cut off from it.
This is what I was mulling over as I tramped down through the boggy lower field. Soul stuff.
I was photographing the fallen reeds in the water when I spotted the first feather partly submerged in the lake. Delicate, white, and soft, these feathers contrasted starkly with the wintery dead stalks. They are probably from the swan pair now living here for the winter.
With little else stirring, myself and the camera feasted on the feathers.
The soul of the world is complex and detailed. Observing it's small treasures always seems to soothe my whirring mind.