Sometimes it’s good to just sit and look, and look and sit.
The Dom Luis bridge crosses the Douro river in Porto, Portugal
Hidden in the maze of lines and angles, an underlying shape and meaning reassuringly appear.
Ever been in a place and wondered how you got there?
There was a time when the sea battered the bow – the memory of this is in the wood.
We all, at times, get stuck in life, but to remain stuck and allow ourselfves to deteriorate, is problematic. There’s always light we can respond to no matter how distant.
Sometimes distance is so telling, the way back is impossible.
It’s cold today. Winter will soon be here. Scenes of bleakness, but of immense beauty, like this, will soon dot our countryside.
Stepped into a thousand year old church today; dark, musty and full of ghosts of the past; but it was the immense stillness which was so poignant and so beautifully overwhelming.
The sea has this almost coy and playful relationship with the shoreline. The touching and the running away always reminds me of some eternal children’s game of “last touch.”
Thomas Hardy walked here. Do some of these trees remember him? Did this ground feel the touch of the soles of his shoes, and did the stones hear his literary and poetic whisperings as he conjured up stories and poems? Do the leaves in their cyclical existence of life and death carry within themselves memories of his face in moments of creative struggle and insight? Thomas Hardy walked here and the Woods still remember.