Every Austen or Bronte film I have seen has remarkable scenes of the English countryside that knocks the wind out of my lungs. It always looks as though it is so much greener in England, and so much more dramatic. I have spent so many of my nights falling asleep dreaming about the stunning English moors, abrasive cliffs, and romantic villages. It hasn't quite sunk in that I live in this beautiful place now, but there are moments where it hits me and I realize the reality of this vivid beauty.
Around 6:30am Friday morning I heard the familiar soft noise of rain falling on the roof. As I watched the water glide across the glass, I couldn't resist opening the window to the damp world outside. The sound of the rain, so gentle without thunder or lightening, and the birds singing songs in the early days of February took my breath away. I stayed there for several minutes, absorbing this unusual beauty of daybreak that I am so unaccustomed to. With no cars in the background, and no students awake to be heard, it felt as if I looking out on a scene described only in novels written long ago.
I took this picture later. It ended up being a beautiful day.
No comments:
Post a Comment