Landscape of my Dreams

For the first time in nearly a month, I can see the hills on the horizon. They are not sharp or distinct; a slight haze still blurs them. But they are there, firm and solid rather than the phantom presence, sensed but not seen, that they have been. They form a nice boundary or backdrop to the fields and farms I bike through, a focal point, something to look at or from. This is my favorite landscape.

I enjoy the energy and verve of the city. Whether at night, with its blur of lights, or during the day, with its sidewalk shuffles and industrial bustle, a city possesses a sense of activity and movement. Though I admit that the sheer volume of this can be overwhelming sometimes.

But rolling farmland bounded by mountains or hills is the best. The farmland carries with it the idea of nature, harnessed and organized, yes, but not controlled. It cannot be controlled. Ask any farmer, and he will tell you that technology and hard work help him improve the odds in his favor, but ultimately, he is at the mercy of natural forces. Farms also open the landscape to the eye, give one a view to the horizon and options for travel. In contrast, forests close out the world, which is nice sometimes, but occasionally I've had difficulty seeing the forest for the trees. Once cleared for planting or livestock, the vast stretches of land give one a sense of distance, perspective, and opportunity. Farms are stable, present; they are of and about the earth. They remain still, but they also invite one to meander; they offer options. Whether you go across country or along a road depends on your mode of transportation and your momentary inclination. And farms change with the seasons, with the crop, in an ever moving cycle. Consequently, farms are permanence made fluid.

But mile after mile of flat farmland can lack direction. How does one choose one path versus another when there is little or no variation, no distinctness. Add high hills on the horizon, and you get a natural waypoint. You can choose to move toward them or away... or maybe you want to travel parallel to them, as if they were companions going along for the journey but not pressing themselves upon you. It doesn't matter what route you choose to take, hills offer you a purpose, a reason to move. And they give you something with which to monitor your progress.

Yes, options and freedom of movement in the present with a goal or an objective, however remote, in the future. This is more than a favorite landscape; it is how I like my life.

I guess that's why I don't like suburbs. Like office cubicles, they divide up the land, the view, into tiny parcels. This is mine; that is yours. They hem in, close off with fences and landscaping. They wind and confuse with roads that go nowhere but to other roads, other houses, each like the last. And they lock one into cars, away from interaction with anything other than middle class staleness. Suburbs are the only dead things I know of that grow, except perhaps for toenails. :)