Window On A Train

I gaze through the train window looking for my fox, but so far, it is nowhere to be seen.

I put down my book, wanting only to soak up the beauty of the English countryside as it zooms past my window, and I marvel that for so many years I longed to feast my eyes upon this green and pleasant land.

But the view goes by too fast.  I want it to slow down so that I can catch my breath and find what I am looking for.

(c) Sherri Matthews 2016

The world races by but I want to beat it at its own game. (c) Sherri Matthews 2016

And then I glimpse a splash of yellow shot through spring’s verdant green ~

English Dorset Countryside in May (c) Sherri Matthews 2016

(c) Sherri Matthews 2016

I know if I am patient, if I aim my phone camera just right, I will find my reward ~

Rapeseed Fields in Dorset, England May 2016 (c) Sherri Matthews 2016

Rapeseed Fields in Dorset, England May 2016
(c) Sherri Matthews

And there they are: rolling fields of rapeseed’s bursting yellow, patchwork quilts laid out as buffers against the grey, brooding skies of a May heavy with rainfall.

(c) Sherri Matthews 2016

(c) Sherri Matthews 2016

One day, I see a deer bounding through a field and on another, I smile at a family of bunnies, white tails bobbing up and down like cotton wool puffs caught in the wind.  I watch pheasants strut their stuff, their nature-gifted palette of painted feathers shimmering red and blue and green in the morning sunlight. All go by too fast for my camera.

And still, as the train rumbles on from Somerset to London, there is no fox.

Every Tuesday since the middle of April I travel to London to attend a memoir workshop.  Six hours travel time for a two-hour course.  I am hoping it will help me clarify the process of structure, thematic threads and reflection, the nuts and bolts of the craft of writing memoir.

But I have discovered that it is in the journey, not the destination,
where my answers truly lie.

(c) Sherri Mathews 2016

(c) Sherri Mathews 2016

When I was a girl living in Surrey, before my parents split up, they built a boarding cattery at the end of our garden. One day, we had a surprise border: not a cat, but a fox cub. Entranced by my dad’s stories of a mysterious fox who lived in the woods at the back of our house, but which I had never seen,  I could not take my eyes off the young cub.

But although mesmerised by the beauty of its soft, red fur, its cute black boots and bushy, white-tipped tail, it was the fear in its eyes that held me.

For two weeks we kept the fox cub in one of the runs that also held a cosy little shed where it could sleep and keep warm and cosy against the elements.  But that fox didn’t sleep: horrified, I could only stand by and watch helplessly as it spent its first few days gnawing at the wire of the run, its gums bleeding, desperate in its bid to escape.

I cried quietly to myself as I watched its suffering, wondering why the people who owned it had left it with us when it was so miserable; so alone; so frightened.

I wanted to help it, but I couldn’t.

My dad was the only one who could handle it. It took time; he had to earn the fox cub’s trust who at first attacked when Dad tried to get near, but one day I watched in awe as with hands protected by thick, gardener’s gloves and after much cajoling through gentle whispers, he managed to pick it up, hold it close to his chest and carefully stroke it.

And then it was my turn. Dad let me stroke its little face and I marvelled at how soft its fox-fur felt beneath my small hands and then I watched as the fear in its amber-gold eyes gradually melted away.

Decades have passed since the day my dad tamed that frightened little fox cub, but somewhere still in the telling of this story lie the remnants of a little girl who once felt helpless not only for the fox, but also for herself.  She grew up and found her strength, but it was different for her father; although he saved the fox, he could not save himself.

And today, reflecting on these things while looking through a window on a train, I remember where I was, where I am now, and where I am going.

But you see, somewhere along the way, I had forgotten.

(c) Sheri Matthews 2016

(c) Sheri Matthews 2016

I saw a fox once, from a train window.  I wrote about it, almost three and a half years ago.

But another fox found me and it wasn’t in a field.

A few weeks ago after a family gathering,  I settled down in the passenger seat for the hour-long drive home, closed my eyes and fell sleep.  A little while later, I came to as I heard Hubby say, “Look, a fox!” My eyes flew open but I saw only an empty verge along the deserted road.

“Oh I wish you had seen it,” said Hubby, “He looked right at you!”

I thought he was making it up, the part about looking at me, an embellished story knowing it would make me smile.   But he told me that a fox had shot out into the road in front of us, but instead of darting into the hedgerow on the other side and disappearing as they usually do, this one had stopped.  With a swish of its tail, it had turned its head and, according to hubby, looked straight at me.

“Are you sure?” I asked.  “It was probably looking at the car, or something else…”

“No.  It was definitely looking at you…”

But I had missed it.  I had my eyes closed and I missed it.

(c) Sherri Matthews 2016

(c) Sherri Matthews 2016

On the train, I switch off from the clamour of every day life and I reacquaint myself with a world waiting to be explored in the view through my window.

There, I meet my uncluttered thoughts and I find what I am looking for in places I did not expect. I find not the end, but the beginning.  And I find the delicious escape.

Yet still I search for that fox through my train window.  I know it is out there somewhere, prowling through the fields and the woods and the open roads.

“I promise to keep my eyes open…” I whisper through the glass. “This time, I don’t want to miss a thing…”

 

 

 

 

 

About Sherri Matthews

Sherri has been writing full time since 2011. Currently working on her memoir, 'Stranger in a White Dress', she has been published in a variety of national magazines, websites and three anthologies. Sherri raised her three, now adult children, in California for twenty years and today, lives in England’s West Country with her hubby, Aspie youngest, two cats, a grumpy bunny and a family of Chinese Button Quails. She keeps out of mischief blogging, gardening, walking by the sea and snapping endless photographs. Her garden robin muse vists regularly.
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125 Responses to Window On A Train

  1. Imelda says:

    The English countryside is so beautiful, looks so prim and proper if I may say so. 🙂

    With your story, you gave us a lesson on mindfulness. Even when the world rushes before us, it is good to pay attention, to remain connected with ourselves and the world around us.

    Happy day to you, Sherri. I wish you well in writing and everything. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is captivating! I really enjoyed reading it and wanted some more.
    I hope that one day you’ll find that fox back ☺

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Wow! What a beautiful view of the countryside, Sherri. I think I’d have my face plastered to the window during the entire ride.
    Great to see you on WP! I’ve enjoyed our chats while you’re on the train. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Haha…yes, I feel like that sometimes Jill! I love the train, always have 🙂 Ahh…thank you! Yes, I feel it’s been too long, but better late than never, right? Then again, I suppose there’s no such thing as ‘late’ here in blogland…just so long as we show up once in a while, lol! Me too. Since I’ve started these trips to London, my mobile phone provider has upgraded to 4G…just as well! ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Such a beautiful and rich story (journey.) May you see your fox as you travel along taking everything in & as you reflect on the past, present and future. Destination ahead!! 🙂 ❤ xo

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      I will keep looking, yes I will! Love your comment my friend, thank you so much for them all, always. Destination ahead indeed…love that!! And now for some reason, I’m thinking of the Little Engine That Could… 🙂 ❤ xoxo

      Like

  5. We have our own GIRL ON A TRAIN, and she’s you, wonderful Sherri! And this girl watching for a fox from the train also has a touching story about keeping a fox and what she learned about the fox…and her father. Sherri, this is a powerful, beautiful post. Thank you for giving us this gift.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Ha! You know Marylin, I only just found out about Girl On A Train when walking through Waterloo train Station in London and there it was, in paperback, in the window of a well known book store. I read the cover through the glass and thought ‘I really need to read it!” 🙂 Thank you for your lovely words Marylin…this is a very personal story and after three and a half years of blogging, it seemed the right time to share it…

      Like

  6. dgkaye says:

    What a fantastic view of the countryside Sher. And good reminder that yes, it’s not always the destination, but the journey.
    Wow good on you girlfriend for taking the workshop 6 hours away. My goodness that is amazing dedication. I’m looking forward to more shares from you on that workshop.
    I also loved the little memoir story about your father and the fox. There is much to be read there between the lines. It’s funny how the dysfunct in one’s nature can still allow for a compassionate side, somewhere within. We all carry demons, and they have a life lasting effect on us, but it’s how we choose to go forward.
    Thank you for this enlightening post. Glad you are busy writing and doing again, and don’t forget to breathe!
    Love and hugs, Deb xoxo ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      I’m so glad you enjoyed the view today Deb…for once, I was glad of the blurred photos! Yes, it’s a long way to go and it’s tiring but I know it is only for a few more weeks. No way could I do this all the time and how some people commute long distances every day to work is beyond me 😮 As time went on, I wanted to save my dad and it took me a long time to wake up to that fact, that I am responsible for my own life and how I choose to live. As you say, we choose to go forward. Phew…I’m glad to be back to busy writing too! And I will share more on the workshop as a summary when it’s finished. Thank you so much for your lovely comment Deb, as always…and the great advice to remember to just breathe! Deep breath… 😀 ❤ xoxo

      Liked by 1 person

      • dgkaye says:

        Well, just another thing in common with us Sher. I tried to save my dad too. I suppose the events we encountered in life contributed to us becoming writers. You know, every writer has a story. 🙂
        I look forward to your posts on the workshop. And wishing you a wonderful and peaceful weekend. 🙂 xoxo ❤ ❤

        Liked by 1 person

  7. Sue says:

    Great write, Sherri…. BTW, how many more trips to London?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Thanks so much Sue! I can’t believe it took me so long to finally get a post up. Here’s my email address so I can let you know my timings now that I’ve got into my routine, although they are tight. Hope we can work something out though! Email: shezzer59@gmail.com

      Like

  8. Allison says:

    My beautiful, kindred, talented friend,

    I know it’s been far too long but I wanted to say hello and send you every warm thing right this minute. It always heartens me to stop by “your place” and remember your light and love are shining bright out there . . . bless you, Sherri. Stay fierce, sister soul! 😉

    Hugest hugs,

    Allison XOXOXOXO

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Dear Allison, it has been such a long time since last we met…and to read your message today is such a blessing, it really is! I have been so absent from blogging, struggled for a while now…but in writing my memoir (which drives me forward) there have been times when I have wondered if I am shining any light at all…that maybe it has grown rather dark of late. Thank you so much for your beautiful heart and for flying over on Angel wings to say hello. I will do all I can to stay fierce! 🙂 Sending love, hugs and blessings to you dear one…and I hope that life is treating you oh so well… ❤ 🙂 xoxoxo

      Like

  9. Pat says:

    What a lovely story, Sherri. Your words had me captured right to the end. I could imagine the sound of the clamoring train and see the gorgeous countryside as it passed by. You touched my heart on how your father gently nurtured the fox cub and won it’s trust. Isn’t that something that, with some of us, it’s easy to give to others but hard to receive for ourselves.

    I can see why you’re on the lookout for your fox. It’s the unspoken connection in your heart you long for that will somehow soothe the pain and answer the questions you’ve held for a long time. I think I can understand and is what I felt from the doe in the death of her twin fawns. (I’ll share the link of that story if you’re interested and haven’t read it.)

    Your fox will show up and you’ll meet eye-to-eye one day. No words will have to be spoken but you’ll know something happened and you’ll feel a shift in your heart. Love you, my friend. Beautiful writing! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Dear Pat, I am so moved by your beautiful message, thank you so much. And yes, I do very much remember your story of the doe and her twin fawns…and how it moved me then. I know how I felt when I saw ‘my’ fox three years ago, from a train window, at the start of my writing career and just before I started to bash out the first draft of my memoir. Today, as I travel once more by train to London, this time in the midst of rewrites of that first draft and at last able to find some semblence of structure and theme (but still working on the construction…so hard hats still needed…!) I wait to see my fox once more. And there it was…not where I was looking and I missed it! Ha…such is life! And my dad…yes, he always loved animals, had a gift with them. If only he could have used that gift to help himself…Ahh my sweet friend, we journey on no matter the mode of transportation! Love and hugs to you Pat… 🙂 ❤ xo

      Liked by 1 person

  10. jennypellett says:

    Great writing Sherri. I envy your train ride. People might think it weird but I used to love my hour long commute. Time to wind up and wind down, read a book, the newspaper or just watch the world go by. I did a lot of gazing into the back gardens as south London trundled by, imagining the lives of the folk who lived there. Hope the course is worth the three hours though. However enjoyable train riding is, it’s blooming tiring!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Hi Jenny! Ahh…thank you so much. After five weeks, this fox wouldn’t let me go! Oh I love gazing into those back gardens too! I remember when me and my brother used to travel by train from Ipswich to Liverpool Street to spend the school holidays with my dad. At Christmas time, when it gets dark so early, I loved peering in at the Christmas trees in their living rooms! But yes, it is very tiring. A long day. I am wiped by the time I get home. As much as I love the respite, I will be glad when it’s over, a few more weeks. I could never do a long commute every day. But I can see that an hour long would be just about right! I’ll do a post about the course when it’s finished. I’m enjoying it to a point, but wondering at times if it’s worth the long travel. More on that later.. Hope all is well with you my friend. Have a lovely weekend 🙂 xx

      Liked by 1 person

  11. Luanne says:

    Sherri, what a lovely post. So many layers to its beauty. xoxoxo

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Now here is a writer! You have found yourself and your voice on these long train rides – letting the beauty of nature take you beyond the daily mundane worrying and fretting and into the realm of memory and purpose and understanding and forgiveness and compassion. You are your own Buddha on a train!! Dear Sherri, this is possibly the most wonderful post I have ever read from you. It is multi-faceted, multi-layered, mysterious and opens the heart to deeper realities of our mundane existence – I love it! But you probably knew I would 🙂 Keep travelling and looking for those foxes! ❤ ❤ ❤

    Liked by 4 people

    • Pauline, you have said this with the words I could not find.

      Liked by 3 people

    • Sherri says:

      Dear Pauline, I don’t know what to say…only thank you so much my friend for your beautiful heart-thoughts. I’m humbled and deeply moved by your message…A part of this journey takes me through a long, dark tunnel…still so much to sort out in my head, how to process these thoughts into the written word without stifling the flow, while travelling onward. And you know I will not give up looking for those foxes… you will know when I find them! 🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤

      Like

  13. Train travel in England is so romantic. I remember those rape (canola) fields swiping by frame by frame. Never mind, you made the fox’s day! He thought, “hmm, foxy lady!” 🙂 xo

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Haha…love it! Thanks so much Jennifer 😀 This time of year is particularly beautiful in England, the rapeseed fields are fleeting in their beauty, and I thought I had missed them to take photos! I was surrounded by people on laptops, mobile phones, doing crosswords or sleeping, and there I was, pressing my mobile phone up against the window trying to get moving shots of yellow fields! Lovely to see you again…will head over to your link on FB as soon as I can… 🙂 xo

      Liked by 1 person

  14. Heyjude says:

    What mesmerising writing. I hope one day you see your fox again…

    Liked by 1 person

  15. My goodness, this post gave me so many wonderful feels Sherri! I had no idea that you had such a long journey to attend your memoir class! What a wonderful time for relaxation, reflection, and fox watching 😉 What a lovely story of you, your father, and the fox. I think that I too would have been saddened by that situation as a child.

    I must say that I’m quite excited for your memoir Sherri! Especially if this post is any indication of what’s to come. You have such a wonderful way with words that truly paints a picture and conveys emotions so perfectly. An amazing talent my friend 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

    • Sherri says:

      Your lovely comments always make me smile so much Heather…who knew that a train journey would turn into a fox-watching exercise 😀 Seriously though, thank you so much, as always…I don’t what else to say…I’m very touched. I hope all is well with you my friend…I’ll be over to see what you’re cooking up next! Have a wonderful weekend 🙂 xx

      Like

  16. If this is any indication of what your memoir will be like, I’m ready to have it in my hands now. This was melodic. You are not in need of anything but the train ride. It seems to bring you back to yourself. Pauline said it better than I ever could. You are a wonderful writer!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      The train rides have helped me in ways I never could have imagined. I think I needed this time to nurture the ‘escape’…but I wasn’t able to see it before. I was too ‘on top’ of everything, too close. Going to this class has taken me way out of my comfort zone. It’s been many years since I travelled to London alone and I was nervous at first. Now I have my routine and routes down pat and I feel like a seasoned commuter…you should see the way I race up and down those steps to get to the Underground, lol 😀 But seriously, as with Pauline’s deeply moving message, you dear Marlene my friend, have touched my heart. Thank you so much…I just hope I can get ths memoir written and soon, but it has a way to taking its own sweet time… ❤ xoxo

      Liked by 1 person

  17. Sunning views from the train. Thanks for sharing the photos. The yellow and green mesh so well and look so fresh.
    Love the story and the telling, Sherri. Long time no see. Sounds you’re working hard. 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Hi Tess! How lovely to see your lovely smile again, long time no see indeed! Blogging is taking a back seat for a while, but I do what I can 🙂 I liked the way the yellow and green looked together, and this time, I was glad for the blurred photos, considering I had my mobile phone camera glued to the window lol! Have a lovely weekend and see you soon! 🙂 ❤ 🙂

      Like

  18. Pingback: Window On A Train — A View From My Summerhouse – Welcome to the World of Ekasringa Avatar!

  19. Lovely, Sherri! I have no doubt your fox will find you once more… 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  20. Sunni Morris says:

    What a beautiful story. I’m sorry you had your eyes closed for the fox and hopefully it’ll happen by again.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Ahh…me too Sunni, I couldn’t believe it! Next time though…next time. Thank you for your lovely message. My blogging has been very intermittent lately…it means a lot that you keep in touch and I hope life is treating you well… 🙂 xo

      Like

  21. Prior-2001 says:

    Hey Sherri,
    loved this post, and while I enjoyed this quote:

    “But I have discovered that it is in the journey, not the destination,
    where my answers truly lie..”
    this post was so much more than this reminder…
    this post was sharing the affect and giving us an experience – and for that I thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  22. restlessjo says:

    Such a beautiful story, and as Jude says, mesmerising. I love the wistfulness. So wonderful to reconnect with you in this way, Sherri. The hugs, as always, ride with you. 🙂 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  23. Mabel Kwong says:

    It is great to hear that you are going to the memoir workshop quite a distance away. Sounds like the train journey slows down your mind and as such, you get to reflect on the world and happy memories of the past 🙂

    That story of how your dad tamed the fox is so heartwarming – with a bit of love, we can make something or someone see a whole new world and family. What are the odds of that same fox looking right at you while you were dozing in the car…it could have been him, it could have been not. Or maybe your husband was pulling his leg. But, I like to be optimistic and I’ll say you’ll cross paths again at some point 🙂 Lots of love to your Summerhouse, Sherri, and take care ❤ xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Hi Mabel! Always so lovely to see your beautiful, smiling face over at the Summerhouse 🙂 I’m glad you found the fox cub story heartwarming, thank you! And yes, I like to think it was the same fox, lol…just like my Sweet Robin, right? 😉 😀 I’m sure we’ll cross paths, when the time is right! I hope all is well with you, I will be over to see how you are doing! And Lots of love to you too…I hope you have a wonderful weekend 🙂 ❤ xoxo

      Liked by 1 person

  24. Norah says:

    What a gorgeous post, Sherri. I caught your reflective and meditative mood. It is so necessary to do that at times. I hope you are finding the course on memoir writing valuable. It sounds like the self-discovering during the journey is of greater importance than the coursework though.
    That elusive fox. What is the metaphor? Why did the other look right at you? What glorious scenery from the train window! I’m pleased you are making good use of your time and your surrounds. That elusive fox and inspiration is there. You just need to open your eyes to see.
    Take care my lovely. Enjoy the view!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Hi Norah! Thank you so much and wonderful to see you; as always, your message gets me thinking ever deeper! I admit I do write metaphorically a fair bit, not planned, but just the way I try to convey a certain message I suppose. I’m always looking for the hidden story in everything…that can be good and it can also be bad! I have been in a reflective mood lately, and trying to make sense of a few things that are going on right now. I will post more about the course later once it’s over – a few more sessions – but I have mixed feelings about it. However, I am a great believer in looking for the good in everything and taking away the whole as an enriching experience, even if perhaps things didn’t work out quite as expected. One really good thing is I’m taking printed chapters with me which I edit by hand on the train – when I’m not pressing my camera phone up against the window and looking for my elusive fox, and yes, keeping my eyes open indeed…! – a practice I’m finding really helpful. Who knew that the biggest help would lie in a train journey? Mind you, I’m glad it’s temporary, it is a pretty exhausting day! I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend my friend 🙂 ❤

      Liked by 1 person

      • Norah says:

        I like your attitude: looking for the positive in everything and making sure its an enriching experience. I can imagine that such a long day’s travel would be tiring and you will look forward to not having to do it any more. You will probably look back on your achievements and reflections from the journey quite fondly though. Sounds like you are able to fit quite a bit into those few hours. Enjoy! I look forward to reading more about you and your work.
        You may be pleased to know that a memoir won the Australian Book of the Year this week, and also took out Biography of the year! http://goo.gl/kZxuZp
        Get yours done girl. There’s a place for it!

        Liked by 1 person

        • Sherri says:

          Thanks so much for the link Norah, I just watched the video and read the article. I don’t know the author/actor, but what she shares in just this short snippet is inspirational. I want to read her book! It sends a charge of hope through me that yes, there is a place for my memoir, a reminder to cling to! As always, your encouragement and cheering on gives me great hope! Thank you so much as always Norah! 🙂

          Liked by 1 person

          • Norah says:

            Magda is a well-known (in Australia) comedian. She starred in the movie “Babe” about a pig. Did you ever see it?
            I’m pleased you found the news and video uplifting. I want to read her book too. And yours! 🙂

            Liked by 1 person

            • Sherri says:

              Oh I love Babe! I’m having to think who she played. It was a long while ago that I last watched it. Always remember the last line: “That’ll do pig, that’ll do.!” I did, very uplifting…and thank you for your little add on there…you keep me wrting and smiling dear Norah!!! 🙂

              Liked by 1 person

  25. Lovely story Sherri. There is something special about catching the eye of a fox at the side of the road. They gaze fearlessly it seems right into one’s soul.

    Liked by 1 person

  26. Wonderful storytelling Sherri with a beautiful tale of your Dad and the fox ( I could see the fear in his eyes) and the reflection you made that you had found your strength where your Father hadn’t was so poignant and meaningful. Sherri, don’t ever doubt your writing, you have just shown us how well you do it and I with numerous others look forward to those edits being done so that we can read Your story. Loved your photographs of the rape seed fields and glad you have that time in the train for some wonderful reflecting. This post was worth waiting 5 weeks. Lots of love

    Liked by 2 people

  27. Wonderful views of the countryside, and wonderful writing, Sherri. It really hit home when you said how your dad had saved that fox cub yet he was not able to save himself.
    Keep looking, keep hoping. I know you’ll find that fox.
    xx

    Liked by 2 people

    • Sherri says:

      Thank you so much Hugh, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. Feeling a bit wistful lately…and yes, that story about my dad and the fox cub is one I will never forget. And I know that fox is out there…I will not give up! Have a wonderful weekend 🙂 xx

      Liked by 1 person

  28. Ste J says:

    You got a seat! How did you manage that, lol! That is an awesome and heart warming story and underlines how good your memoir is going to be!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Haha…yes, I got a seat! Only because I get on early and then coming home I’m rushing through the turnstile as soon as the train hits the platform! Soon gets full up though…which is why I much prefer looking out of the window. Thank you so much my friend…I’ll remember that on those days when I think otherwise!! Have a lovely weekend!

      Like

  29. Annika Perry says:

    Sherri, this is such a beautiful post, swishing between the real, the personal, the metaphorical. Brilliantly written, packed with emotion and layered throughout. It would take another post to write an answer to do it justice. Your fox is out there, waiting for you. I hope the world slows down enough for you to catch sight of it…or perhaps just knowing it is there will be enough some day. Wishing you much peace. Hugs. 😀 Loved the photographs, capturing the beauty of the UK scenery from the train.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      Thank you so much for your lovely comment Annika. I’m glad you enjoyed the read and the photos. Now if I can just snag one of that elusive fox…I’m determined if nothing else! I hope you are enjoying a lovely, peaceful weekend and hugs right back to you 🙂 xx

      Liked by 1 person

  30. TanGental says:

    now that’s what I call a mood post. It’s like being there, enjoying how your mind wanders around the now ti the past and back. Not so much philosophical as ruminative. And beautiful style, so easy to read. Your memoir will be fabulous darling!

    Liked by 2 people

  31. Tom Merriman says:

    Lovely post, Sherri, and it is always the little things that have the most impact!
    I hope you get to see your fox very soon, and the moment you meet, you both get to feel the magic.

    Liked by 1 person

  32. He’s there waiting, your fox friend. You’ll meet again!

    Liked by 1 person

  33. Sherri, I LOVE this post, not only because I love foxes and am a little obsessed by them at the moment, but I love the way the view from the train brings back those bittersweet memories. Love the abstract photos of the world whizzing by and the way you find what you need by paying attention to the world outside the window. Gorgeous.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Sherri says:

      Hi Andrea, and thank you so much for your lovely comment. I love that you are a ‘little obsessed’ at the moment with our magnificent foxes. I have been for as long as I can remember. I’m delighted that this post resonated with you…and yes, it is indeed the world outside the window that beckons the strongest of all and I know that you would be looking out to that magical place where the fields meet the woods just the same 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  34. Lovely post Sherri I do hope you find that fox again. How astonishing that he was staring straight at you!

    Liked by 1 person

  35. What an amazing story about the fox cub, Sherri. I remember the one that had been deposited for safe-keeping at the back of my garden, as she was busy moving dens and couldn’t carry all of her cubs at once to their new home. The poor thing was petrified of me and my dog, even though we couldn’t possibly reach it in Mrs Fox’s well-chosen hiding place. It must have taken a lot of love and patience from your Dad to tame something so wild and with such needle-like teeth as a cub. There are three adult foxes living in the next garden to me at the moment. It’s driving my dog mad! …Hope you’re having a good week, my dear friend xxxx

    Liked by 2 people

    • Sherri says:

      Oh I am so jealous of your three foxes next door Sarah! Although, not for your poor dog…I can well imagine! How amazing too to find a fox cub at the back of your garden…I hope Mummy Fox soon returned to take it back its siblings. I’m glad you enjoyed this story…I’ll never forget it. Thank you dear friend…always lovely to hear from you. The week’s got away with me as you’ll see from my email, long overdue. Have a wonderful, long weekend…and we’ll catch up soon! 🙂 xxxx

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yes, Mrs Fox did come back and collect her cub, so all ended well 🙂 The week has got away with me, too, Sherri. I absolutely never manage to do all that I set out to do, often because I allow myself to get diverted. Thanks for your long email, just received. I’ll be back to you shortly. But meanwhile, about a meet-up — the Wednesday would be best. Wishing you a wonderful weekend 🙂 xxxx

        Liked by 1 person

        • Sherri says:

          Great…just saw this before closing down my laptop! So glad Mrs Fox returned…good Mummy Fox! 🙂 Oh…I know of those divertions…far too many. Sorry it’s been the same for you…that time gobbling monster is on the rampage again it seems! No worries re the email, but yes, yay for the Wednesday! Look forward to it very much. Thanks Sarah, you too, a wonderful weekend for you, and catch up next week! 🙂 xxxx

          Liked by 1 person

  36. Beautiful. ❤ You have such an engaging style. Your memoir will be wonderful. (Good to see you around the blogosphere, too. I haven't been around much but, now that I am, I'm happy to see you here.)

    Liked by 2 people

    • Sherri says:

      And I’m so happy to see you here too Sarah! Thank you so much for this. I’m going to unplug for a little while, long weekend here, and then, once the workshop ends, I hope to get back on track, which means visiting you and reading you again! Been too long… ❤

      Like

  37. A wonderful and very moving post, Sherri. I can just imagine how you must have felt. seeing the fox cub in the cage and in such distress. Your fox can join your robin in your ‘happy memory bank’. 🙂 Beautiful photos of England’s ‘green and pleasant land’. I always get a thrill when we visit and see the gorgeous countryside. For such a small island with such a big population, I always marvel at the fact that there are so many wide open, uninhabited green spaces. Hope you are having a great week my friend. xx

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sherri says:

      I’m so glad you enjoyed it Sylvia, thank you so much and welcome back after your lovely visit with your family! And yes, Fox and Sweet Robin are definitely major players in my ‘happy memoir bank’! 🙂 I love sharing the England’s ‘green and pleasant land’ with you as I know how much it means to you with your strong family roots here. And yes, I am so glad for those wide open spaces! I’ve got very behind with blogging this week, and am going to unplug shortly for the long weekend, but I look forward to catching up with you next week! Have a wonderful weekend my friend and see you soon 🙂 xx

      Liked by 1 person

  38. Ali Isaac says:

    Sherri, that course must be working… this piece is just stunning! You are truly a gifted writer.

    I adore rapeseed fields too. We get them over here, but not so much as in the UK. Those fields were vast, and even on a dull day, they rippled with intense yellow flame, a sight to behold.

    I read a wonderful story as a child about a girl who befriended some foxes on Hampstead Heath. I fell in love with foxes from that moment. After I had my first son, I remember being up in the night feeding him, listening to the wild cries of all the urban foxes. Since I moved here to the Irish countryside, I have only seen one live fox, which sauntered casually through my garden at 1pm in the afternoon. Sadly, I’ve seen a few dead ones roadside, and I know there are plenty of them around, as 2 fox hunts start each year from outside my house. I’m not keen on that. There is a photographer blogger on wp who wrote an amazing post you might like about a man in Ireland who adopts wild foxes. I’ll see if I can find it and send you the link.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Sherri says:

      Hi Ali, and thank you so much for your lovely comment, I have been struggling and so I take your kind words straight to my heart ❤ What a beautiful story to read, and like you, I've been fascinated with foxes ever since I was a child. My first ever published piece was a flash fiction based on the walks I took with my dad through the woods at the back of our house and the stories he would tell about a mysterious fox that lived there. But I never did see that fox, and even moving to rural Suffolk I didn't see a live fox there either. Although yes, too many killed on the roads, and fox hunting too, makes me sad 😦 It wasn't until several years ago, having moved back from the States and living in Dorset that I saw my first live fox! How wonderful for you to have your visitor…I love their cheeky confidence at such times 🙂 Yet, my boys see a lot of urban foxes in the Brighton/Hove area. I would love the link to that blogger, thank you! BTW, I found out from my mum (she reads all my posts lol!) that the fox cub belonged to a film company – would love to know the story behind that little fox. I've never forgotten it… xx

      Like

  39. Sherri this is so beautiful written yet it left me sad thinking about your Dad. How amazing to see a fox up close. I do recall seeing them walk down the street in London in the early hours when i would be going to my shift. I would love to sketch one I think they are stunning to look at. They are too quick for me to capture on my camera. But one day I did look one in the eyes at the side of the road. I would have been just like you as a little girl, so worried for the stressed creature.
    Kath

    Liked by 2 people

    • Sherri says:

      Hi Kath, how lovely to read your message today. I am sorry I’ve been so bad at visiting you, I am barely clinging onto to blogging these days, but I will, I promise. It’s great to see you here and there on FB in the meantime 🙂 Thank you for your lovely words…I feel sad too thinking of my dad when I remember my early years and how we seemed to be a happy little family. Urban foxes here are a common part of life now, much easier to see them in town than in the countryside! Oh I would love to see one of your sketches of a fox Kath, in fact, I would pay you for it! I hope everything is going well for you and your family and your projects…and I am keeping on with my memoir 🙂 xo

      Like

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