Nature's design. Winter in North America. Silver air clads the atmosphere. Bare branches of naked dogwood trees stretch up into the sky like arms raised in prayer. And cypresses huddled together in secret conversation sway in the breeze. Ripples run away on a steely lake. Nothing is out of place. Everything is as it should be. Whatever nature decides is perfect.
I'm in Richmond Kentucky where it doesn't occur to anyone to go. It's astonishing that New York is a two hour flight away. It's hard to imagine that - that just a slight shift away there are art deco sky scrapers and wide pavements with hurrying people disappearing into subways, hailing cabs, watching off Broadway play and doing what New Yorkers do - instead of these gentle cypresses dusted with snow and the only sound you hear is the sound of chirping swallows in the far distance.
Sometimes quiet is thrust upon you and it lays its healing hand on your shoulders when you don't even know they were ever so slightly knotted. I couldn't do this forever but hearing the crunch of old snow underfoot can be a mini event and experiencing your dimmed instincts waking up to shifts in the wind, sensing a drop in temperature before it actually occurs reminds you of your ancient origins. The connectedness we seek is just a walk in the woods away. The silence isn't tomblike. It's temple like. We're afraid of silence.
The young grass peeping out of the snow teaches you not to. So maybe could do this longer than I thought. I'm seeing colours in a way I don't normally. They're less imposing than those painted by poetry and artists but somehow more beautiful because of their reality. The sunrises and sunsets bathe the sky gently, the greens relax the eye, and the lilacs have a relaxed prettiness with no urge to impress any culture hungry soul. Maybe I could do this a while longer. Nature's design. Nothing Time Out would find worth mentioning but it works for me.