Saturday, October 20, 2012
Along Wolf Hollow a ray of sunlight wove its way through the trees, a beckoning light streaking the hill. I put my collection of leaves and pods on a rock and scrambled my way along the ridge following it. It was if it pulled me, a pulley of light, blinding and completely directional. Whiteness, and warm, tangled with shale trunks, orche and chartreuse flickers. It was in this light my heart felt at home, “beam me up Scotty!”, a reassuring hand on my shoulder from “him”. Is this what we long for? To return home? Yes, I think so. It is not in a lover, or a house, or anything else but there. And it is also in all those things. We long to return home.