"When everything else has gone from my brain ... what will be left, I believe, is topology: the dreaming memory of land as it lay this way and that." Annie Dillard
Sometimes there's a little number there to help. In the case of my terrain it's a little number in more ways than one, something in the 300 range, as in 367 feet above sea level.
But even 367 can be felt in the legs on the way up — and on the way down. It's a good reminder that the land has a texture and a contour. That it has a mind of its own.
Labels: landscape, maps, place, topography, walking
posted by Anne Cassidy at
11:04 AM
I’m a writer and editor, the author of "Parents Who Think Too Much" and a freelancer published everywhere from the "New York Times" to "Woman’s Day." I’ve been scribbling my thoughts in one tattered notebook or another for most of my life, but this blog is the first time I’ve gone public. I'm glad you've landed here, and I hope you visit often.
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