I’d forgotten how big the sky was. With height it grows, the horizons slips away from you and my sharply focused perimeter of the past few months was suddenly replaced by something distant and hazy.
So familiar though, I still know this skyline better than the windowsill I’ve peered over at unreachable scenery for three months or more.
But still it feels fresh, it’s makes my heart sing, my sleeping soul stirs and my feet find new ways to old views.
Linda is seeing a new part of the hills tonight and her face shines as warm as the soon setting sun while she smiles brighter and wider than I do.
The air was getting cold, but the sun slipped into view as it found a gap in the clouds beyond the Luss Hills so we didn’t really feel it.
It shone golden searchlights over the landscape picking out slopes and ridges, lighting up the flighty cottontails and the long grass with bowed, seed-laden heads before it sank into a glowing hearth, edging the beautifully torn clouds in orange before leaving us for it’s quick subterranean summer journey east.
The sounds of the birds and the whispering wind-teased moorland growth, the smells of the the blossoms and the unnoticed green below, the hilltop breeze on our faces and that sky above.
So full of colour, full of movement, full of life and full of joy. Damn I’d forgotten how big it was.
