Friday, March 19, 2010

High Point

This is one of the high points of my foothill, the distant ridge is the next city over. When I stand here I can see clearly for miles in every direction, even as far as the peaks of Red Mountain thirty miles away. This is my thinking spot, covered in waist-high dry grass this time of year, reminiscent of an Andrew Wyeth painting. I love how even at such heights, the perspective is flat, as if I could simply step from my ridge to the next, the immeasurable chasm in between only a sketched line in the sky like a crack in the pavement.

Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue, a wonderful living side by side can grow, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky. Rilke

1 comment:

Left-Handed Housewife said...

What I love about this picture is the shadow in the foreground. That's the Wyeth-est thing about it. The colors are like Wyeth's, but that shadow, the element of mystery, that pegs it.

frances