An Inadequate Description.

When I went out into the garden this evening there was a light drizzle falling as the low westering sun was venturing out beneath a cloud bank. The view before me as I looked west across the valley was breathtaking.

It was divided into a series of horizontal bands. In the foreground on the far side of the lane was the mid green of mature maize plants. Beyond that lay a line of green trees appearing so dark as to be almost black. They in turn were silhouetted against the hills rising on the far side of the valley where the misty atmosphere was dense enough to make a single block of the whole range; and it was all rendered a shining golden brown by the blistering backlight from the sun. Above the hills was a narrow line of pale grey cloud, and then another line of pale blue sky, and topping the whole picture was the soft, folded texture of denser, blue-grey cloud. I’ve never seen such a glorious sight across the valley in the sixteen years I’ve lived here.

It’s difficult to describe such a scene, and near-impossible to imagine from an inadequate description given in mere words. But for a few brief minutes the imp of health and other worries kept a low profile. And sometimes I wish I weren’t so responsive to such a phenomenon, and at others I’m glad I am.