I’ve been taking walks in the country just about every morning since we moved
here. I’m posting this pic because it seems to best summarize the nearby scenery.
Our place is near the top of a local mountain range, so there aren’t many people
up here. The main road (don’t worry, this isn’t it) comes up from town, runs
past our place, turns into a one-lane stretch of pavement a few miles down,
then goes back down the hill into San Jose. This morning, for instance, I walked
that road for 60 minutes and had three cars pass me.
Words and pictures don’t do proper justice. They can’t convey the sound of
songbirds’ conversations or the feel of a breeze that might’ve gone ten thousand
miles across the Pacific to get here. There’s no smell of fresh horse poop or
damp dogs running in the yard.
The gravel road here goes past a farm where a guy raises goats and sheep. When
I walked by the other morning, they started baying at me … like maybe they
wanted me to come by and catch up on the latest gossip.
In town if you find yourself alone, you almost immediately feel lonely; maybe
it’s because there are so few creatures to keep you company. I can walk down
a road up here and experience complete solitude for maybe 60 seconds at a stretch.
There’s always some critter dashing through the underbrush, or a hawk soaring
way up there, floating on the thermals and waiting for that critter to do something
What I love about the country is that it was here for eons before I came along,
and it’ll still be here for eons after I’m gone. Puts our puny little human
affairs in perspective.
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