Far from such salty places, I have eloquent expanses of my own, an inland sea shaped of foothills, gorges and quiet grassy coves, winding rivers and gnarled old trees, flowing fens and dancing reeds. Not for me, at present anyway, are the pacific bays and beaches near Point Lobos which Daido loved so much, the fog wrapped headlands and promontories graced by weathered stones.
My earthy inland sea sings like the sirens of old, and it holds beauties beyond measure in every season. In November, there are fields of blowing silky milkweed as far as the eye can see here, and they beguile the eye in perfect panoplies of cream and taupe and gray. In sere and austere arrays, they draw like a magnet, and I dissolve in their midst like a contented and wind tossed leaf.
4 comments:
Good words and picture!
Thank you.
gorgeous photography here --- what camera do you use, if I may ask?
Gorgeous photo, beautiful, evocative words that make me long to visit your part of Canada.
Sounds like dance of celebration.
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