A long winter's walk, perfectly still and blue-skyed in a way only brutal cold produces. Coggeshall Farm, in Bristol, RI, where I feel it is destiny for me to work as a docent in period garb.
The creatures of the field sun themselves; they're no fools.
They know it's best to enjoy the field without petty conflicts -- a flock of sheep, two bulls, a cow, a donkey, all in the same field sunning.
Perhaps it's the view from this field -- restorative, no?
2 comments:
you don't post often and I don't check often .. but every now and then I drop by, and it is so reassuring and wonderful to see your lovely posts, the progress of your home and grab a moment of rare gentility.
Agreed. I've been loving this blog for a long while and am so grateful for each post. How you say and how you see has a way of wrapping itself around me like a poultice, drawing out memories, thoughts, words. Everything feels so measured, so careful. In a way I'm glad you don't post so often, I'm not sure my senses could handle it. All I have right now is the last line of Leopardi's poem "L'infinito", 'il naufragar m'è dolce in questo mare". Keep saying and keep seeing.
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Thanks for commenting on Nick Haus! I look forward to seeing what you have to say. Unfortunately, I had to stop taking Anonymous comments -- too much spam, too much vituperative. Come out from behind the curtain, ye nasty Anonymous! Everyone else, please, I love to hear from you.