I am behind on posting, and have a kitty update, but my brain is super tired and instead I will leave you with this beautiful scenic description from the book I'm currently reading, The Last September by Elizabeth Bowen. It takes place in a manor house in Ireland, during the Irish War of Independence. (Also! I missed my blog's birthday last weekend! SEVEN YEARS I have had this space. I will write more later.)
To the south, below them, the demesne trees of Danielstown made a dark formal square like a rug on the green country. In their heart like a dropped pin the grey glazed roof reflecting the sky lightly glinted. Looking down, it seemed to Lois they lived in a forest; space of lawns blotted out in the pressure and dusk of trees. She wondered they were not smothered; then wondered stll more that they were not afraid. Far from here, too, their isolation became apparent. The house seemed to be pressing down low in apprehension, hiding its face, as though it had her vision of where it was. It seemed to huddle its trees close in fright and amazement at the wide light lovely unloving country, the unwilling bosom whereon it was set... Fields gave back light to the sky - the hedges netting over them thinly and penetrably - as though the sheen of grass were but a shadow on water, a breath of colour clouding the face of light. Rivers, profound in brightness, flowed over beds of grass. The cabins lifting their pointed white ends, the pink and yellow farms were but half opaque; cast doubtfully on their fields the shadow of living. Square cattle moved in the fields like saints, with a mindless certainty...
Belated Happy Blogoversary, Claire! 7 years!!! That can't be!
Posted by: Jennifer | June 26, 2012 at 12:23 PM
Thank you Jennifer! I KNOW! SEVEN YEARS! What have I been doing with myself?
Posted by: Claire Helene | June 28, 2012 at 08:49 PM