Somehow Pleasing To The Eye

Somehow Pleasing To The Eye

There are moments in life when words are not required.

In fact, often, these are the times when if you say nothing and silently take it all in, you get the feeling that the memories you make will stay with you forever.

So, imagine a day.

A glorious day.

In a beautiful part of the country. North of the border, in a place so lush and green that you know it must rain all the time. But on this day, the sky is clear, the sun is shining brightly and it's perfect, just perfect, for getting out into the countryside and exploring.

And when you see them, the hills in this place are simply stunning. As far as the eye can see. Rolling off into the distance, into the haze, their colours change from greens into blues and greys, painting the landscape.

You find a place to sit, near the top of one of the hills, on a mossy bank next to a footpath. And you look along the track, seeing how it winds its way down, hugging the slopes as it slowly descends along the side of the valley.

And you start to think.

You wonder, is this going to be one of those moments?

And you see sheep dotted across the hillside, in fact, now you notice them, you see them everywhere. Even at the top of the steepest slopes, way above you on the other side of the valley. Ewes with their new-born lambs, probably no more than a month or two old, comical black faces making amusing but slightly repetitive noises. You see a farm, way below you, and you notice a couple of horses in one of the fields. One white and the other brown. A wind turbine turns almost noiselessly and you see someone, perhaps the farmer, working on what looks like a quad-bike in the yard. The dry stone walls bend their way elegantly across the fields until they meet, forming strange shaped enclosures, somehow pleasing to the eye.

You see a yellow glow in one of the fields and realise, delightedly, that it's buttercups, thousands upon thousands of them, creating a colourful oasis in a vision of green. You feel the welcome breeze from behind you as it rushes in over the moor, easing the warmth of the sun on your neck and then rustling through the densely planted pine trees down to your right. The sound is relaxing and, in a way, almost hypnotic.

You notice the grass all around your feet swaying, the spikelets moving backwards and forwards, gently, slowly. Along the slopes you start to see more movement and realise that all around the valley, further than you can see even, the grass is dancing. Conducted by the wind.

And the beauty of everything, the place, the weather, of just being alive, hits you. It literally leaps up from somewhere inside and makes you flinch. You look around and realise that maybe, no, probably, this really is going to be one of those moments after all. A moment that you will most likely remember forever.

And then you glance to one side and, here is the thing, you smile as you remember that good experiences become better when you have someone to share them with.

When there is someone special sat alongside you on a mossy bank, looking down the valley and seeing what you see, then the moment also belongs to them, not just you.

And it's then that a glorious day becomes, well, an idyllic memory.

Musing On The White Edge

Musing On The White Edge

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