Of Barns, Meadows and Creeks

It is unavoidable. When capturing my thoughts about time spent in this corner of Oregon, USA, I find romanticism exudes from every word. This land of splendour could be mistaken for an old-fashioned movie set with all the charm, the quaintness and the natural beauty. It portrays the essence of peaceful living. Of nurturing. A profound sense of well-being, combined with effortless grace, greets me as each new day unfolds.

Early morning mists creep through the forests and across sleepy meadows. Tenderly cradling me in a security blanket. Within the folds of gentle moisture, a sharp invigorating crispness greets my exposed cheeks. Infusing my body with its sparkle. I shiver at the intensity of the experience. And yet there is a softness. A gentleness that exists in all I see around me. I sense a profound spiritual connection with those who lived off this land centuries ago. Their presence resonates deep within my soul.

The hills in the distance, the soft pastel shades of the clouds and the wildness of the surrounding trees offer a tender presence. Even the narrow road meandering through the pine forests and between farmyards has a sense of quiet consideration in its purpose. 

The old red barn which I have come to love so deeply, stands solid in a field of emerald wheat. I wonder what memories it holds. What stories have unfolded within its space through the years. Its dented corrugated iron sheets and slatted wooden walls, a tell-tale sign of weathering many a storm. There are barns everywhere. Each one sharing their simple character and charm. Placing their signature on a landscape so exquisite. In the distance a train makes its way through the hills. The deep rumbling sound resonating through dense forests. Unlike other trains in the world, which pierce the silence with their shrieking whistles, this train announces its presence with a hollow, murmuring sound. Blending in with an already peaceful environment. Adding a mystical touch. 

The long walks I take each day present to me one of the greatest gifts. That of deep silence. And with it comes serenity. At times I feel I can hear the grass growing. The gentle footsteps of squirrels running ahead of me break the silence. This is a place for one to listen and to hear one’s inner voice. A place where I feel fully supported by Mother Nature herself.

Wandering through open fields where the sky is seemingly bigger than anywhere else, we stop and rest. On thick lush grass. With our backs against the huge trunks of ancient trees. Woven through the intricate bark, stories of a century past remain closely guarded. Perhaps only to be shared with the spirits of those giant trees and those who once lived in the shadows of those commanding branches.

Jet streams form white fleecy ribbons across the enormous sky. The planes fly over in silence, leaving only their trails behind. Sharing the sky with red-tailed hawks and turkey vultures. They too fly silently overhead. Symbolizing the power that Man and beast possess. A reminder that there is space enough for all to share. For everything in existence to exist alongside one another.

A herd of Elk appear. They wander along the pathway which determines the border between the wheat fields and the hazelnut orchards. Their presence enhances the scene before me. In silent elegance they move together. Grazing of the sweet vegetation. They are the true owners of this land. For they have left footprints in the thick grass for centuries past.

The Japanese maple trees are kissed with raindrops hanging on to each leaf whilst dancing in the sunshine. There is something quite spectacular about the colour green here. The leaves seem to hold a luminous glow within them. Creating a palette of shimmering foliage. Sparkling with vitality and chlorophyll. Adding to what can only be described as the zenith of spring. The crisp mornings give birth to a canvas of blossoms. In a spectacular display, each tree, shrub and plant present a radiant unfolding of splendour. Cloaks of intricately woven threads and delicate design.  The rich soil holds space for a celebration of colour - dark reds, burnt oranges, shades of pink and plum, deep purples, blues and violets. Somehow everything natural seems larger than life in terms of colour and of vital force. 

This explosion of colour makes its way into our Easter brunch celebration. Forming a connection between our table indoors and the magnificence on display outdoors.

Once again, as I have done for weeks now, I grip my mug of hot coffee between my hands. The steam creating cascading twirls as I step outside into the crystal virgin air. I gasp silently. Another spectacular kaleidoscope of textures and another symphony of birdsong is mine to hear and to treasure. The morning dew is taken captive by rays of brilliant sunshine. Ambient light stretches across the fields to the creek below. The waters lie motionless holding the space for temperatures which plummeted during the early hours. Picturesque white wooden fences run along the paddocks forming subtle boundaries.

Bathed in sunlight, I make the time to sit down on the huge comfortable chairs outside. My nervous system gently tumbles deeper and deeper through various layers of relaxation, into a welcoming space. A space filled with warmth and serenity. One which is becoming more familiar to me. And for that, I am grateful. It’s a space which sadly remains unknown to many. To access this corner of our Selves, time and peace are needed. For now I have both.