i'm a rover of high degree

[ontology]

Oh, how lovely; the incense twine of woodsmoke is coming in through the open window, and today it is autumn. I finally realised that sitting in my bedroom all day ruining my eyes on screens, not getting any air or exercise, and only seeing the exact same things I see every day was doing my psyche no good, and on a whim took up my iPod and my embroidered bag and betook me to my bicycle, and to the hill.

The hill is behind my old house, where Sarah and Hannah now live (again: it was theirs before it was mine), and when I lived in the Rectory I would steal up there often, especially last August and September, before we moved. It's a large hill, and if you look in exactly the right directions, the long waving grass and clusters of trees hide all the signs of civilisation and you can pretend you are Nowhere. I mean, there's the statue of the Founder of Our Town and the grave of his horse, but they're sufficiently worn-down to be interesting. There's a path up the side to the top, and if you skirt off the path to the right there's a marvellous little grove of trees, very fey and out-of-the-world feeling. I've always wanted to string candle-jars around it and have a mad tea party at dusk. It was here that I lay myself down in the old leaves and listened to a lovely new album by Thistletown -- pretty, jingley, multi-voice freak folk with the occasional jazzy horn riff reminiscent of Nick Drake -- and then the Magickal Folk of the Faraway Tree, because lying on my bed did not do them justice. (I posted them on musicyardsale yesterday; go join and/or have a look!) Sometimes I wandered over the hill and picked an autumnal bouquet of leaves and late flowers, but mostly I lay in the leaves and twigs listening to lovely music and watching the sky change and the orange-edged leaves flicker in the wind, and great flocks of birds fly hither and thither overhead -- the shadows of birds, skirting over and through leaves in the sun, is an image I will never forget.

Of course, while I was sitting in my woodland grove with leaves in my hair (and purple earbuds incongruously in my ears), a herd of college students suddenly flowed into my hidden paradise. Funny how this never happened, ever, when I actually lived in the neighbourhood. Apparently they were on some sort of botany mission? I stayed where I was as they trooped past me and smiled and felt very peculiar. I wonder what they must have thought of me? We sort of grinned at each other amicably and nervously and they went off to do their botany things and I went back to my music, but it was very amusing. (Fortunately they had left by the time "Here's a Health to All True Lovers" came on, because I had to dance to that, and I wasn't ready to stop after that, so I queued up old favourite Steeleye Span song "All Around My Hat" and kicked off my shoes and shouted somewhat tunefully along with the chorus. I can sing well, but not usually so well when dancing.)

And then I had boundless energy! Well, not really, and I think I swallowed an insect, bleah. But I did feel a great deal more motivated and brain-working-y and went home and made chocolate chip cookies and had debates with the radio again.

Comments

[sunfiremarie.livejournal.com]

Yes Yes Yes is my natural response but in the interest of a little variety -- mmmmmmm. (I'm articulate today!) Sounds like a soul-enchancing afternoon befitting all the magic in your mind and in your words. When the internal aligns with the external in this way, there's nothing better than that.

And yes, beautiful photos!!