A GREEN HILL FAR AWAY...

I took this photo just over two weeks ago. The evening sun was just going down over the bay at St. Ives to bring to an end yet another almost perfect day. Since we`ve been home, the weather has continued to be glorious with clear blue skies and spectacular sunsets. The forecast is for this wonderful Indian summer to continue for another week, although I suspect two things. The first is that, as we have now gone past the equinox and therefore the days get shorter and the nights longer, Autumn has probably officially arrived. The second is that the weather will inevitably break and we will be back to the damp and the growing dark before much longer, which is probably the only thing that stops me getting on the phone and booking up another week down in Cornwall.

My problem is that I don`t `do` spontaneous; I have seldom indulged in `spur of the moment` and I`m not sure `impetuous` is really me. Pity really, for if I had any sense - even a sense of living for today and the hell with tomorrow - I would be heading west once more. I feel a compelling urge to get it out of my system, almost a need to exorcise it, so strong is the draw to go back to that land that I find irresistable, which wraps itself around me and makes me feel at peace and enchanted at the same time. I suppose I`ll get over it, pull myself together and knuckle down to the routine of life, but I wonder why at times. Deep within my septuagenarian psyche there might, just might, be the troublesome fear that I may not be able to go there much more. Maybe I should, after all, discover what a bit of spontaneous, spur of the moment impetuosity might bring....before it`s too late? Answers on a postcard please.