Month: May 2016

Rocks walls are the wise old shamans of architecture, marking the land with tumbled

precision, held together with gravity and good sense. In my wanderings I would often come across such sturdy fences, so quiet and stable that the individual stones become covered in moss, almost as if the granite is to be transmuted into emerald. These walls have seen history and could no doubt tell us things about our world, of the whirling sun and stars, and of the crafty fox and sedentary mole. Our story is there too if we look closely into the warm and dusty cracks.

 

Three eggs in a nest, sky blue perfect and brimming with the promise of life.  I wonder if this color was in some sense chosen in a rebellious moment, defying the conventional rules of camouflage and flaunting azure shades like targets on the moon. Three seems like the right number – triangular and solid — balanced against the random winds of fate.  On the day these eggs hatch the cycle renews, and the future awaits more blue eggs in a brown nest, a circadian portrait in primary colors.

These wooden spans used to scare me as I looked over the edge at the rocky depths.  The wooden planks seem so flimsy, what with gravity and all urgently calling your name.  And in the movies these things ALWAYS break and drop dozens of unfortunates into the gorge below, their cries cut short by distance and churn.  But once you overcome your clearly overactive imagination, the hollow sound of your steps is a harbinger of security; of safe passage over the yawning air.