I mentioned yesterday that I recently spent an evening sitting on a fire escape and thinking as the sun went down.
It had been a long, ridiculously hot, day and it was a relief to know that I didn’t have to walk any farther or do anything else until the next morning. The top step was quite a good vantage point and I gazed out over the town. Continue reading “horizontal thoughts”
Yesterday at 9am it was still so dark I was hardly able to see whether the garden was still there or whether it had either disappeared under flood-water or been blown away by the wind. Today, though, at around 8:30am:
Early morning mountains sprawl
on the horizon
Every time there’s a break in the storms and the clouds start to peel back from the mountains, I hear the jangle of Donovan’s lyrics in my head. There is a mountain may not be a poem, but the line “The lock upon my garden gate’s a snail” is poetry I’d be proud to have written.
Perhaps I should re-read some of the popular philosophy books on my shelf: they certainly provided plenty of inspiration in the Sixties.
In reality, the mountains were even redder and the moon was rather clearer. Clicking on the photo will give a bigger, slightly brighter, version.
(If you’re wondering, yes, it’s “shopped”, inasmuch as I cloned out some cables. If I’d walked far enough to take the picture without them being in the way, the colours would have been completely lost.)
In Welsh, the colour word glas is frequently coupled with mountains and hills – think of all those places, roads, B&Bs, schools etc, called Bryn Glas – but in other contexts it’s probably best translated as ‘blue’ rather than green. Of course, looking at the mountains in the photo – which is much prettier if you click on it to see it full size – that makes some kind of sense. (Not that they are Welsh mountains; it’s the Sierra de Gredos seen from the south.) Continue reading “colour me simple”