I’d taken the meandering road over the hill because it seemed a more interesting route. I was heading nowhere in particular and the evening light was falling down golden, bleeding mixtures of greens and blues through the trees, when I decided to look for somewhere to stay. I often take-off for the weekend, leaving the city in search of tranquility, greenness, space, clean air, and to be alone with my thoughts.
It was that time of day when the second smell of milk was in the air and the fields were strangely empty. The road wound on through hill and nook leading me passed broken gates and lilac bushes. I could smell the barn before seeing it, the warm smell of manure preceding its shape. Coming round the bend I witnessed the face of a little darling, standing on the grass verge with a stick in her hand. The yellow bonnet nestling on her head held her wheat coloured locks; some of which fell to her shoulders passed the azure gaze.
I raised my hand and smiled. The lick of happiness that happened on her face returned a burn of pleasure that reached right through the day and touched me. I watched her in my mirror, her hand raised, not in goodbye but hello, before the bend swallowed her.
What sights we see unexpectedly in the countryside. For the next was a shiny pair of oversized buttocks belonging to a growly faced farmer, patting his blubber-bodied terrier in the middle of the single track road. It seemed the approach of a car was a rare thing as he appeared startled, up-righting himself, blood pouring into his fact cheeks while his dog yapped and yipped and generally tried to bite the rubber from the wheels of my car. The farmer stood looking vexed. Both eventually disappeared in the suns distortions.
I had seeped into the valley with no sure direction but that which the winding road commanded. I had seen no signposts, no roads joining or leaving the one on which I traveled. Winter’s would be difficult out here but now, under the transparent stretch of sky, the evening light had seemed thrown across the hills in a beautiful patchwork quilt before the monochrome of moonlight dripped down between the hills and the trees and quieted the birds. I’d given up hope of finding somewhere to stay. I considered myself lost. It was that perfect.