It’s curious how, looking down on the world from the heights, it seems like a different place to the valleys and lowlands that we tread at a different time. Looking from the mountains makes places sem more special, indeed the mountains add something, and so do mountain people for they are different to the people of the plains. (Hilaire Belloc wrote an essay along those lines, I think – I must look for it.)

I must admit that, as the sun fell, my thoughts turned to the warm cabin that we were heading for, the welcome, the sights and sounds of our horses feeding, the mug of ale or wine that would be pressed into my hands.

We grasp onto it

With both hands

In desperation

Afraid to lose…” Because we do lose. And it hurts. But the sun gives us new chances, doesn’t it. We just must weather the course between the grief and hope. Those days of in-between I want to insist the sun stop his ceaseless shining slice. I want to crawl under leaves and hide. But…life. I replied to your kind concern on my blog. You are treasured here…and on my heart as I head for Georgia. A sudden trip. We bear our lives into the sun, no? Vastly richer for knowing you…
R