The part of England where we’re living is really flat. A patchwork of farms, villages, and fields dotted with sheep and cows, the landscape stretches out here in shades of green and brown, now splashed with orange, red, and yellow as the leaves change.
Our village is situated at the top of one of the only hills around, and as you turn out onto the road leading away from home, the view is just phenomenal.
The sky seems so much bigger here, the horizon so much further away. The clouds are massive and stretch down to touch the edges of the earth as far away as we can see.
I always imagined England to be a smallish country, sort of closed-in and cozy. But from my point of view, she stretches out larger than anywhere else I’ve ever been. Here I can see the far horizon all around me with nothing to break the line but the hedgerows that border the farms and the tree lines along the road dotted in autumn hues.
The photos don’t do it justice, either. It would take a far more skilled eye and hand than mine to ever hope to capture the vastness of this sky.
Although I don’t know for sure, having skipped right from the East Coast of the US to the West with nary a stop in between, I suspect that this is what the middle of America looks like: vast, unbroken plains sweeping into infinity.
It’s hard not to feel awed when you see a sky like this. You feel small and giant all at once, a speck on the earth so huge and wide it goes on forever.
No matter how many times I pass down this road, I will never take this view for granted.