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Suddenly folks are back on their feet, they’re walking, they have to, cars are useless, buried under mounds of snow. The village has come alive and we are visited by neighbours who help us clear our driveway, who call asking us if we need any supplies, who spread this embracing joy of being alive.

That is what snow does to us; it makes us human once again. Schools are closed and in the still air you can hear the distant cries and laughter of children.

Enchantment

This is pure enchantment. It takes us back again into the safe embrace of Mother Nature.
This air is coming straight from the Steppes of Russia. As it roars across the humid and warmer Adriatic, it thrusts upwards and the condensing droplets freeze and crystallize into snowflakes each snowflake being absolutely unique, and wham! 35cm of snow dumped upon us overnight. Isn’t that just incredible?

Our minds slow down too, we are so enraptured by the beauty around us that those ever-present nagging repetitive thoughts seem to dissolve and release us once again to see wonder in simplicity.

 


I remember from childhood, and always will remember, this little poem by W.H. Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Immersed in Nature

This is why I run my workshops at Cittadella in the Sibillini National Park.
Because, being immersed once more in Nature, we let go of what we don’t need of ourselves, of our lives, and allow creativity to flow through us once again. And we paint and sketch, write poetry and make Wild Photography.
My neighbour, Enrico, taps on my window and snaps me out of my reverie
He wants me to check the state of our little road.
Michael