Our flight to San Diego took an unusual southerly route today, but it offered the familiar story of human interventions in towns and fields, lines and grids and circles, progessively succumbing to the contours of the land.
(The plumes of smoke from distant fires were new.) It did occur to me, though, as I gasped with slow rapture at majestic water patterns etched in even the flattest-seeming of dry terrain, that it's a little incongruous that a child of landscapes like these should be thinking new thoughts the gift of trees. ... Or not!
(The plumes of smoke from distant fires were new.) It did occur to me, though, as I gasped with slow rapture at majestic water patterns etched in even the flattest-seeming of dry terrain, that it's a little incongruous that a child of landscapes like these should be thinking new thoughts the gift of trees. ... Or not!