In my last post, I referred to winter towns squeezed between the mountains and the lake at the shore line. Upon closer examination, they are not squeezed–they just fit. Like we’d all like to fit…and not be squeezed, not be forced.
Late December 2020 in the northern range of the Swiss Alps.
I crossed the line.
What? Which line?
Did I stop wearing a mask?
Did I stop supporting local populism?
Did I walk the wrong way on a one-way-street?
I stopped seeing winter as cold, naked and heartless. I stopped seeing winter as death to be abhorred.
…and root beer. I’m not eating or drinking them. I am seeing them in the forest.
I looked out the window today. Fall had snuck in, big time. Nearby a huge old linden tree was freely droping leaves. It made me think of snow flakes, large snow flakes drifting down on a day with no wind.
It was mid afternoon. There was still an autumnal warm sun. I had to take a walk.
It was time for me to get back home for dinner.
I can’t help it.
We are observers.
And what happened during? Were we all there? Growth. Health.
Not so long ago, I participated in a survey by an American specialist in landscape visualization. The survey focussed on the inclusion of visual utility infrastructure as it is built through the landscape.
At the close of the survey a question was asked for each to identify the ideal image of landscape visualization. Well, it would have been easy to say–landscape without any infrastructure visual intrusion would have been my preference.
Could not do that. But I did add that since humans had been living with and using the landscape as long as written history, the ideal landscape image should include successful use, accomodation and management of the landscape.
Just recently, I found a photogenic example that expressed my ideal. The images follow below.
All of us are experiencing quarantine in one form or another.
But the edge of town? What is that? Traditionally the edge of town was the place where fertile flat lands were cultivated for agriculture that was more valuable than town housing. And necessary.
So, yesterday I took a walk–quarantine all around. Walked by myself. As I walked across town, I saw an open bakery, an open grocery store and an open drug store. Everything else was closed.
Quarantined? Take a walk. Check out the edge of town.
As I observe old age taking interest in my body, it shades my observations of the landscape.
Most of the time I take photos of plants, gardens or landscapes where I attempt to share something beyond sense perception. That is my fun.
The other day, not far away, I found this sign. Tomorrow is when? Tomorrow never comes. Now isn’t that the funny truth?
And after all, it is not a stretch to say beer is the ideal people and plants linkage. Ethnobotany at its finest.