Nowhere to go, nowhere I'd rather be
than here fulfilling my daily rituals.
Why would one want
to absent oneself, when one's commute
is a lonely hillside by-way, high
above the river?
From 'Doing Away' by Kathleen Jamie (The Overhaul)
There are several paths that wind around 'our' Beechwood, mostly made by us I suspect, and one leads to a small clearing on the southern edge of the wood, a natural proscenium arch framed by branches rather than curtains and raised about four feet from the field below. It always feels as if I am standing on the edge of a stage looking out and should perhaps rattle off a soliloquy, but instead of an audience, there it is, just masses of endless open space echoing back at me.
I'm hoping you will all share some 'stand and stare' moments from recent weeks too... this was most definitely one of mine.