Which leads surprisingly to another homeland Jura landscape – not my photo
This is about the French Alps, where he lives, but it makes me think of the Jura – also mountainous and forested, but more gently than the Alps - where some friends of mine live for part of the year, just on the French side of the Swiss frontier, in an isolated house amid fields and woods and cows.
What astounds cannot be the remnant of what has been. Tomorrow still blind advances slowly. Sight and light race towards each other, and from their embrace is born the day, eyes open tall as a foal. Murmuring river clasps the mist for a moment more. The peaks are signing on the sky. Stop and hear the milking machines designed to suck like calves. In the first heat the forested hills calculate their steepness. The lorry driver is taking the road to the pass which leads surprisingly with its own familiarity to another homeland. Soon the grass will be warmer than the cows’ horns. The astounding comes towards us outrider of death and birth.