As I wandered by way of the woodland panorama, I could not assist however marvel on the kaleidoscope of colours that surrounded me. The timber, tall and majestic, stood sentinel in opposition to the backdrop of blue mountains that rose up in the direction of the sky like giants. Their trunks had been a deep grey, weathered by numerous seasons of wind and rain, whereas their leaves shimmered like emeralds within the dappled mild filtering by way of the cover above. Some had been tinged with brown, proof of autumn’s mild contact, whereas others appeared nearly white, as if kissed by an early winter’s frost. And but, amidst this riotous show of shade, my gaze was drawn many times to the refined nuances of grey – the mushy mist that wreathed the mountains’ peaks, the silvery sheen of dew-kissed leaves, the mild patina of aged wooden worn clean by generations of human contact.
As I walked deeper into the woodland, I started to note the best way these colours appeared to mix and merge, creating refined harmonies that had been each soothing and invigorating. The blue of the mountains appeared to seep into the inexperienced of the timber, imbuing them with a mushy, serene mild; whereas the brown earth beneath my ft appeared to pulse with life, as if it too had been alive and vibrant. After which there have been the flashes of white – wispy clouds drifting lazily throughout the sky, or the occasional burst of daylight breaking by way of the cover like a shaft of pure mild – which appeared to light up the whole scene, casting it in a heat, golden glow. It was as if the very essence of nature had been distilled into these few sq. miles – a symphony of shade, texture, and lightweight that appeared to reverberate deep inside my soul.
