The Wind was at My Back; The Last Leg

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As I stood at the edge of the somewhat enormous crater, bent over, hands on knees, looking out over the open landscape, the orange light illuminating everything to minute detail I thought, good God I’m going to feel this in the morning. And I did.

Continue reading “The Wind was at My Back; The Last Leg”

Highlands and Slutty Crickets

 

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Photo by Donald Tong on Pexels.com

 

Like most places, I think I’ve come to believe, you have to be there to experience it. Like nothing really authentically describes how it was, or how you felt, being there at that time. It’s like touching air or feeling your heart racing in there. I’m coming off sounding like I was just on the moon. No. It’s not the barren majesty of the heavens. It’s incredibly full of life and you see it for miles. You can feel it in the earth beneath your feet, giving way under them because there’s just been a good soaking. You can smell it in the air because one of the cows has just dropped a load, and the wind has ruffled the pine trees. Leaves are falling. You can taste it in the water that gushes unheeded below you from one of the many hills on which you’re standing. The steady, hypnotic flow of it is something one can sit there and listen to as you stare off into the distance. There are little green shrubs and tall trees; mud and grass thatched huts that you can see, dotting the hills. Far away the heads of herds are bent to the dark green ground and the apex of the hills have lone trees against a background of blue and white. The sound of what could be a giant saw comes at you from a distance as you look at the terrains with precise demarcations of jade and brown. You smell wood smoke. Continue reading “Highlands and Slutty Crickets”