I promised more Mary Webb, since a good many readers share my enjoyment of her writing which complements our long-running theme of Laudato Si’. She takes me back to Shropshire, though in her time hillsides that are silent today were loud with mining or the ironworks along the Severn River. ‘Those atoms that move invisibly’, however, set me thinking of the stars and interstellar dust, the clay from which our world, and we were made. But no, she is in the Shropshire hills. Lay down beside her, and Laudato Si’!
When no tread of man or beast disturbs the silence, we are haunted by the footsteps of the dust – of all those atoms that move invisibly and mysteriously to fresh unions for the building of hills and the hollowing of valleys. On such a day all the ripples of motion are in full flow; the tide of growth is coming in; all green things and flowers hold out their arms to the sun. In autumn the tide ebbs; leaf and petal look down to the soil whence they came, as if they heard a call and longed to go back and intermingle with their kin; softly the petal flings herself down, and the leaf is not long in following. They go, not to death, but to a new incarnation among the unseen company that moves in silence, busier than a hive, creating daily a wonder greater than any myth – the world around us, with its mutable grace.
From The Spring of Joy:II Joy.