I looked down at my arm and saw a dragonfly briefly resting on it. For a moment the world faded out and I thought of all the summers and all the moments and all the many dancing dragonflies that inhabited the moorland next to the duck ponds. The sun warmed my soul, the lone dragonfly flew away and I was alone. Gradually the sounds of the countryside came back into focus: the ducks fussing in the pond, a pheasant clucking in the undergrowth, the whisper of the wind in amongst the dry-leafed birch trees. My mind came back into the centre of myself. Misty-dog pounced on something moving in the grass and my heart bounced back into the present.
It was no more than a moment – sitting on a pallet beside a lochan, but it refreshed and renewed and gave courage for the walk back to the car. Why did I need courage? Because an extremely large chocolate brown labrador had nearly knocked me over as we walked up the track to the ponds, and now we had to go back the same way, past the badly behaved labrador.
Thank goodness for the courage that a dragonfly gives. And after all, I am here to tell the tale aren’t I?