July
The road I travel daily is wild and winding. A tree lined ascent leads to an untamed wilderness; a constant and yet continuously altering state of inspiration; an ever-changing landscape that connects my home life to my work life
Some days It offers a sense of separation, others it acts as a bridge between two realms,
Often I stop in the middle
July’s end offers a reassuring ride, predictable in its presence the heather blooms
The hills are blanketed in its flower, its heath a thickening on the hill, a density, a bedding in, an exclamation of summers final fling.
In receding light, fountain grasses flirt with flurries of warm air, delicate harebells sway along the verge and spears of fireweed spreads her seed as though time is running out
The warm damp earth speaks of ancient paths and timeless treads… between worlds, between weathers. Clouds seem to signal summers end.
It feels abrupt, that time is running away with me, too busy to sit in the sun
Hundreds of trips carrying a thousand thoughts over this hill.
This hill, a purple pastiche where I find the blended beauty of heathy hues a composite of reds and blues, the mid-tone, the midway, the place between home and away
When time continues to run ahead of me and this bridge becomes a burden
I stop
and meet nature in the middle