We went to the sun temple at Stourhead in the snow and low-hanging mist today.
The atmosphere is so still, new and ancient. Just single bursts of birdsong, ducks, geese, the water, and two woodpeckers echoing eachother. Sounds became crisp and clear, individual and tangible. The snow and mist together held the land in a way that made me feel just a glimpse of what it might have been like for HER, travelling through the woods and over the hills, on her journey back then.
We found a perfect bowl of untrod snow, surrounded by beech, to make our snow lines running in circles and rolling on the ground.
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