September Scene.

I just took a longer walk around by the main road for the first time in ages, because that’s where the best view of the valley and the Weaver Hills may be had. There was an open field gate which framed the four major markers of September in lowland Britain: golden corn stubble, berries of black and red, green trees splashed sparsely with yellow, and a mix of ragged and tidily trimmed hedgerows.

There’s a sense of stillness on the land now, even when it’s windy. The breath of growing things has slowed almost to a stop because it’s time for some things to die and others to go to sleep.

It had me wondering yet again: what is the point of learning merely for its own sake? Surely, learning for its own sake only has any worth if it’s part of some permanent state: the cycle of life, death and rebirth; the persistence of consciousness. It’s the best I can come up with at the moment, so I’m sticking with it.