Fragments Gallery
Observations: The Field
Insects chirp and an owl forlornly cries out. The insects surround you, from the bugs buzzing near your ears to the more distant crickets playing their sad songs. The owl coos again, its lonely voice rising above the sound of the wind rushing through the distant trees. Your eyes remain closed as the subtle wind brings the musty scent of damp soil and crisp grass to your nostrils.
Faraway birds twitter to each other, their voices grow fainter as you listen; soon their joyful songs are lost in the ambient night. Your eyes flicker open and you watch as two small darting forms fly towards the horizon.
Vibrant green grass is as far as the eye can see. Occasional splashes of colour mark the flowers of other plants vainly trying to survive amidst the overwhelming emerald. The shadows grow longer as you watch, leaving the grass in shadow. Rather than obscuring its colour the lighting deepens it.
That sea of grass sways and swirls in the faint breeze. It doesn't take much to get it moving, it's almost as though the prairie longs to dance but can only do so to the breeze’s song. It is beautiful, and its motions relax you.
You take a deep breath and turn to look elsewhere. A white picket fence shines amidst the emerald. The fence surrounds a small orchard, no more than ten trees, all full of round fat fruit. A short distance outside of the fence a larger tree full of the fruit stands alone. Its leaves rustle fitfully.
That single tree strikes you as odd, why would one sit separate from the rest? The question lingers in your thoughts for a time before your complacent mind pushes the puzzle away. Somethings just are, you tell yourself, somethings needn't have an answer.
Beyond that orchard distant windmills stand on small hills, their blades wheeling slowly through the air. That seems surprising, the wind seems as though it should be too weak to move them. Yet still they move. Tattered cloth at the tips fluttered through the air; they remind you of medieval pennants attached along the castle wall.
A motor roars to life somewhere in front of you and startles you from your calm. Try as you might you can't see the engine in the fading light. Your attention wanders as the sting of that sharp noise fades away.
The mountainous clouds so high above you seem ominous in the fading light. Your eyes follow a grey valley along the length of the cloud, tracking its winding path as it wanders through the grey mountains of mists. Your imagination fills in the gaps and soon you find yourself staring at heavily forested mountains whose peaks scratch the skies.
Sudden motion catches your eye and you turn to face the source. That owl you had heard earlier has taken flight. Silent as death it soars away into the night. The owl was right; you’d waited here long enough. Now was the time to leave.
As darkness obscures the land you rise and trudge back to your vehicle. Time to head home.