Monday, 6 May 2013

A Sense of Place

There were two mountains, one looming high into the blue sky, cloudless today, the other rippling out across the mirror-lake to my feet in the gravely shallows. The water, clear as a diamond, dances and sparkles with skimming-stones that bounce across its surface before sinking below into the dark mysterious depths. Tall tales, and half-whispered stories, of of lake monsters, dark shadowy ravens bringing messages from far off lands, wheeling hawks loose from the hand of an armoured knight; white stallion prancing on the mountain ridge,  and dancing lights of faeries, unbidden, sprang to mind, almost as if emanating from the very stone and moss clad, fern-nurturing trees of the lake's edge, or half remembered in the breeze. Long after I drove away, I was left with an sense of place. Of water and stone. 

I have returned this weekend from a training course in North Wales. I was lucky enough to have chance between study sessions to explore a sample of this beautiful and dramatic landscape of mountains and mysterious lakes, which possibly more than its fair share of sheep and slate. 

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