Cameras are a constant source of disappointment to me because they rarely see what I see.
When I see the three dimensional majesty of the mountain peaks that surround me as I stand in wonder on the plain, the camera sees only the actual sky-line which is surprisingly flat.
Eyes are much better — they inject emotion. They integrate with the other senses to capture the euphoria of a landscape — the freshness of the breeze, the perfume of honeysuckle and hay, the buzzing of the bees and the birdsong. The vibrant greens of a valley re-awaken ancestral stirrings that draw us still to fertility and shelter.
Yesterday I drove to Rhyd in Snowdonia, it was a wonderful spring day — such a shame that the photos could not capture my mood (even if I had remembered the UV filter). These are the best of a bad lot.
In Winter one becomes more aware of levels, height above sea level, contours and isobars, temperature differentials and of things variable, that change ones view of the world.
Yesterday from the frosty world of the valley bottom we walked up through layers.
Through the chill mists that form in the valley like a rising sea level.
We climbed to where the sun skims the top of the hill to fill the opposite side of the valley with colour,
and makes silhouettes of the sheep on the horizon. Then we looked back over the hill tops, bathed in winter sunlight.
…mythical creatures claw themselves free of the forest floor…
rise up on the verges of the ancient tracks…
and stretch out to drag you into their gully.
Warriors stand above their own graves and gaze through the larch vale, wind at their backs, looking down the valley to where we live in this land of spirits.
The tups on the hill are uneasy…
they feel it too. Something stirring beneath the wet grass — everywhere, everything — waking — stretching — on the move.
Nature’s Show Garden!