My daily journey can be described with insane numbers: in hours and minutes, in miles (both horizontal and vertical), in gallons, in dollars and cents.
Or I could describe the landscape I travel though by the immeasurable sanity it does bring me. As I travel through the landscape, I am curious about the history of the rock formations. I am in awe with the daily sunrises and sunsets. I learn the colors that create each season. I stare at the blooming Lupine. I anticipate the return every spring of the pair of nesting eagles. I have nicknames for places like ”stegosaurus rock” and “llama lookout”. I am surprised by the distance I can see as I crest the hill. I am saddened at the road kill, but delighted by the daring antics of the magpies trying to have their next meal. I feel lost and disoriented in the nightly snowstorms. I am guided home in the winter by the big dipper. Sometimes I don’t even pay attention, and just listen to my own thoughts. Somedays I just want the journey to end. But I want to introduce this place to others…..
Sounds like I’m in a relationship.
As a landscape architect I ask myself, how long does it take? What do I have to experience, or see or do to understand the land so that I may build on it, regenerate it, reinterpret it, express it, expose it, or simply live with it? How do we create a relationship with the land? And why is that important?….Questions our ancestors could probably answer.
I do know that spending time within a landscape, becoming familiar but always in awe, trying to understand the patterns and cycles, what it accepts or rejects, the resilience and the tenderness, the answers and the questions, all add something immeasurable to my life.
See what happens when you go outside with an awareness of the surroundings, looking closely without an agenda, without an ipod, and without a watch.
Then do it again.