Had to Catch a Bus

Had to catch a bus today. Once a week I have therapy and I get there by bus. Well, on the way…it is mid-March in the Berner Oberlands and March came in like a lion with Russian wind and cold from Siberia. The first two weeks felt the harsh results.

But this morning, on my way to catch the bus, I saw the promise of spring realized. I had to stop and photograph.

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Is today the day? For sure.

And even I was still 10 minutes early for a bus that is always on time. Temperature had risen above 50 degree fahrenheit. Mild for mid-March. I sat down and took one more photo before the bus.

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Deep breath of fresh water lake air. No chill. Yes, spring.

Facials?

…or too much time…

I’ve got too much time on my hands—it’s the only way I can explain this stretched metaphor where the skin on one’s face and plant cover on the earth are equated.

If plants are the skin, the face of the earth, then…

…lay down, close your eyes…

The sky, the earth, the clouds and water combine to give the most unique of deep and revitalizing facial treatments to the plants.

…happy…

And afterwards…all are glowing…absolutely glorious…everyone is smiling!

Happy?

🙂

Pasture Waves

…olfactory…

From a distance, it’s hard to see, but the waves carry it in the air…from that huge bowl of a valley…the pastures.

…sweeping waves…

Closer, pastures rolling up and rolling across the slopes, the fields. My eyes and nose battle to receive their outpouring.

…beautiful complexities…

Invisible micro-whisps rising, swirling…they enter my nose, uninvited, confusing my sense of beauty with olfactory complexities; but then my receptors are overtaxed and I can receive no more—so I look and my eyes gradually suffer the same fate.

Why are these pleasures time-stamped? Am I being protected from following some forbidden sensual path into the home of these glorious plants?

Just a question. Because I will visit these pastures again tomorrow and for a brief moment share their waves of ecstasies.

…Clou…d…s…

…from the earth…

…the changing of the airs…

There are days when I look across the valley and see flows of clouds, flows of clouds I do not understand. Right side of the brain…nil. Left side of the brain…nil.

Yet, I am entranced by the beauties of the flows…

Other days, I wake up, eager to see those flows…and I find…what might as well be infinitely far away…something in that distance…all by itself…sigh.

the ether the sky

…and it begins…

I sigh confronted by beauty I can not fathom. Clouds…if I can not grasp them in my hands, how can I describe them? How can I write about them?

Suggestions?