Quiet places. Somewhere that you may like to go. Somewhere I like to go.
But what is a quiet place? Of course, it may be a place physically devoid of sound, a vacuum of nothing. Such places are rare, and somewhat elusive.
No. To me, a quiet place has sound, but lacks noise.
A quiet place may be in the bush, with birdsong, a gentle rustle of the breeze in the treetops, a creek simply being a creek.
Perhaps it’s a gravel road in the country at that time where the mist is still there but the sun is gently encouraging it to retire for the morning.
It may be a place quiet in tone: the brown, the green, the grey, the yellow.
It may be artificially quiet. That special place; but now where the tones have been blackened, and the birdsong relocated until The Noise displaces them once again.
A quiet place will be different to us all. To me, quintessentially, it is a place where the noise of life, of stress, of work, of machines, of conflict – is gone, and my mind is quiet. That is my quiet place.
I hope you enjoy journeying to my quiet places.
Series Two: A stroll on The Mountain in summer
It’s cooler up here. The loud city is far away: turn south, or west, and it’s quieter still. It’s an easy escape, almost cheating.
Dolerite, warmed, is soft, and more colourful at 8pm.
I sit.
The flowers are simple and small, not brash like the gardens of Man, but still they speak, softly.
My mind quietens.
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