Wild Descent
2 Aug 2023

This week my SnapShots involve changing position – the first being from up, or high – to down, or low.

At the top of the hill, the house. Impressive. Beautiful. Built. Solid. And where the mind and heart is sheltered. But stay there too long, or only be allowed there and nowhere else, and the manor becomes a prison.

We love the house, don’t get me wrong.

But at the side of the house, the stairs… which lead to a garden wilderness. You descend the steps, following them around several corners, and dropping more steeply than you realize down the side of a cliff. And at the bottom, wilderness itself.

Again – beautiful, wonderful and to be enjoyed. Except if it rains or it gets dark and cold. Then the outside – wonderful though it may be – is no longer the place to be.

Inside and outside, up and down, the house on the hill and the valley gardens below – they both are fantastic and have their place, their need, their niche.

Back to the stairs. The interconnect. The link between the two. The route that takes one from up to down, interior to exterior, house to garden. It is the transitional space, the place between other places, the route that enables me to move from one to the other.

Often an afterthought, I’m struck by the importance of it. How well constructed the in-between space is makes both Manor and Garden more practical, more enjoyable, better accessible. If both on their own is insufficient for the entirety of time – and nothing works always and in every case – then the way between, the space of transition, the shift – the staircase – might be more important than both Manor or Garden.

Not the positions – but the ability to move to or between positions.

Not the destinations – but the quality of the journey.

Not the extremities, poles or opposites – but the everything in between, which holds it together.