Donkeys, Words and Almighty God
One of my daughter’s most favourite activities is to visit Bransby, a rescue centre for donkeys, horses and mules. It is a quiet place with endless fields filled with lush grass; a sanctuary for creatures who have experienced the dark side of the human race.
We’ve been coming here for two years and now it has become one of my favourite places too though some of the reasons are different to that of my daughter.
There is something about visiting these animals that instills a calm in a person. Some with liquid brown eyes, soft, satiny fur, their silky muzzles nudging a hand for tasty morsels, and others short and stocky, their rough hair caked with mud where they’ve been rolling in the dirt.
As my daughter engages with these magnificent creatures, I take out my pen and notebook and begin writing. Words tumble and fall, resting their evocative notions on the page. The warm, summery silence fills my mind full of promise, sentences form and my imagination runs amok. Black ink on thick, white paper fills me with wellbeing.