The Flirtatious Landscape

I was writing the other day about the way the universe seems to invite our appreciation, and respond, like a cat arching its back, to that appreciation being shown.

It reminded me of something I read a month or so ago about landscapes flirting with us – sending out signals that demand and invite an appreciative, admiring response.

I can’t now remember where I read this – I’ll need to track back through my recent books borrowed from the library to find it. Unless of course any of you are familiar with this idea, and who might be writing about it?

It also reminded me of something I wrote recently as a bit of writing practice, describing the journey home. (This is a simple bit of writing practice to practice – I think there is something of the symbolism of the journeying, home, that helps the words to flow.)

It’s about the landscapes round here, in all their flirtatious glory. The photograph is of the landscape, curving, on my journey home.

I am driving home, from singing practice. The sky is grey to the left, blue to the right. The day is cold: it has the clear, bright look of a January day. It was raining, heavily, early in the morning, and the air is washed.

The landscape has been washed with January sunlight, and cold rain.

The hills to the left are showing their folds, their contours, like the most magnificent eastern princess, fat, sensual, curvaceous, enticing, lying back and waiting to be touched, to be admired.

To be fed grapes by gasping, drooling admirers.

To the left, the sky is dark, and a rainbow cuts through the sky, illuminating my passage.

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