FRIDAY, MAY 3
The temperature plunged overnight, dropping to 4C. We are suffering the loss of our winter coats, now boxed in Hazel’s apartment in NYC. It hailed twice during the day. A strong wind propelled the clouds that shuttered from sun to shade adding to the bracing quality of the air. It made me shiver and feel alive.
The movement of the clouds created a dramatic play of light on the land, like a living painting. I spent time watching one section, a distant rugged hill covered with patches of gorse flower and vibrant greens, at once highlighting the yellows, then the greens, then deep brown rocky hill.
Chloe and I talked about the mesmerizing quality of the land while walking through Braidburn Valley Park on our way to the highest point of the Blackford Hills, near the observatory. It’s as if there is a conversation between sky and land, something ancient and kinetic where humans are captured by it’s forcefulness. I have the same sensation standing on the ground here as I had in Athens on my first visit, and as I have when I am in Utah’s Red Rock country. I think it comes from the people who occupied the land, but also in the land’s ability to somehow hold the history.
When we reached the hilltop, where grass covers the curvy top and steep cliffs drop away, a few knolly rocks jutting out, we sat down. The earth felt both soft and hard, moist from the rain but sturdy from the stones beneath. Duffy sat down beside us with her red, rubbery frisbee in her mouth, and we watched the land painted by the shifting light from the clouds. We watched the passage of time, visible in each moment.
