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I had to post, even though I'm tired and want desperately to finish the scene I'm working on in The Hierophant, because today was one of those days that you hold in your heart as a brilliant source of joy during those long stretches of listless gray in a typical Buffalo winter. Originally, Sarah, Laura, and I were supposed to head out to Allegany State Park to explore the mountains (and potentially meet up with Hi Hat and his can-can line of deer on their hind legs) but we had forgotten about Oktoberfest in Ellicotville, so about half way there the traffic was so horrendous that we turned around. Instead of Allegany we decided to go to Griffis Sculpture Park which is an awesome place between just beyond Springville. We spent the day there, climbing things we probably shouldn't have, storming castles, rolling down hills, and posing inappropriately with certain (nude) sculptures.
Finally, as the sun began to go down we headed home (through more traffic, though slightly less horrendous). We stopped at Pizza Plant for an awesome dinner, and around nine o'clock we found ourselves walking in the dark towards the apple orchard by the nunnery, where this scene from "The Hierophant" takes place. There are a set of wide stone steps set into the side of the hill that the nunnery sits atop, and standing, about to descend, the lights from the gothic building behind us cast our shadows, long and imposing, over the grass at the bottom of the steps. Looking out over the orchard, we could see a thick blanket of mist close to the ground. The moon is almost full, so the entire orchard was lit up, silver black and blue.
In the orchard, we saw deer every where, in the mist, in the shadows, in the light from the nunnery shining through the trees. The skeletons of the apple trees, ruined by the October storm, played tricks in the dark, at once frail and broken, then transformed into mighty ruins. The moon was bright in the starless sky, and we could not help but pause and admire her. We talked about when we were young, trying to catch the mist, and how, no matter how fast you were, it always disappeared when you got closer to it. But if you paused and looked around, you would see that you were actually standing in the middle of the mist...
We moved to the bridge after a moment or two, and there the water moved like a ribbon of black glass beneath our feet, the moon reflected amidst the black joints of naked branches, making the water glisten in patches where the moonlight shone. We ventured to the meadow on the other side of the bridge, but right away we heard cars, saw the peaks of buildings, and knew there was no magic in that place. This exchange took place, and must be illustrated or filmed, I've decided:
Laura: "It's like we've entered the real world."
Sarah: "There's another world just over the bridge..."
Me: "Let's go back."
So we did, and it seemed as if the mist was gone. The moon was even brighter, more enchanting, the orchard more enticing. I'm not ashamed to say we frolicked, because it was a perfect day made for such things. Finally we headed back towards the nunnery, and when we turned around the mist was behind us, as if we really had been in another world, and just passed through the wall that separated it from reality...
So, yeah. It was a beautiful day, and an effing gorgeous night, full of inspiration and mischief. A gem to hold in my heart against the gray beast of February when it comes to swallow me up...
:)
Finally, as the sun began to go down we headed home (through more traffic, though slightly less horrendous). We stopped at Pizza Plant for an awesome dinner, and around nine o'clock we found ourselves walking in the dark towards the apple orchard by the nunnery, where this scene from "The Hierophant" takes place. There are a set of wide stone steps set into the side of the hill that the nunnery sits atop, and standing, about to descend, the lights from the gothic building behind us cast our shadows, long and imposing, over the grass at the bottom of the steps. Looking out over the orchard, we could see a thick blanket of mist close to the ground. The moon is almost full, so the entire orchard was lit up, silver black and blue.
In the orchard, we saw deer every where, in the mist, in the shadows, in the light from the nunnery shining through the trees. The skeletons of the apple trees, ruined by the October storm, played tricks in the dark, at once frail and broken, then transformed into mighty ruins. The moon was bright in the starless sky, and we could not help but pause and admire her. We talked about when we were young, trying to catch the mist, and how, no matter how fast you were, it always disappeared when you got closer to it. But if you paused and looked around, you would see that you were actually standing in the middle of the mist...
We moved to the bridge after a moment or two, and there the water moved like a ribbon of black glass beneath our feet, the moon reflected amidst the black joints of naked branches, making the water glisten in patches where the moonlight shone. We ventured to the meadow on the other side of the bridge, but right away we heard cars, saw the peaks of buildings, and knew there was no magic in that place. This exchange took place, and must be illustrated or filmed, I've decided:
Laura: "It's like we've entered the real world."
Sarah: "There's another world just over the bridge..."
Me: "Let's go back."
So we did, and it seemed as if the mist was gone. The moon was even brighter, more enchanting, the orchard more enticing. I'm not ashamed to say we frolicked, because it was a perfect day made for such things. Finally we headed back towards the nunnery, and when we turned around the mist was behind us, as if we really had been in another world, and just passed through the wall that separated it from reality...
So, yeah. It was a beautiful day, and an effing gorgeous night, full of inspiration and mischief. A gem to hold in my heart against the gray beast of February when it comes to swallow me up...
:)
