over the hill

Tonight is Guy Fawkes night in my part of the world. This is following a British tradition and it's a bit of a shame because it only just starts to get dark around eight o'clock now. I think they should move it to winter, for the sake of the little children who find staying up late difficult. Part of me thinks the private sale of fireworks should be banned, and the other part of me remembers the excitement of the night when I was a child myself, the wrapping up in coats, the special time spent with my father. As I get older I find it harder to reconcile the two.

This photograph was taken one evening on my recent trip. Rose and I were walking along a farm driveway - further than we intended to go, but the golden glow of the horizon drew us onward. (Unfortunately, my cheap little camera takes in too much light, so I couldn't catch the glorious depth of colour.) We thought it was so beautiful ... but then we reached the height of the road, and saw where the glow was coming from. Not the sky, but the distant sea. The sun was low, and cloistered within dark clouds. Its falling light reflected off the ocean, creating such a radiance that really I, with my cheap little words, can not express it.

I learned an important lesson that evening. Never mind the length of the walk back. Always go that little bit further. Always see what's over the hill.


  1. Fireworks: I remember those nights. Watching with anticipation as dad would search the wooden fence for a place to fix the spinning Catherine wheel. Making a Guy out of old clothes and newspaper. Lying in bed listening to the sound of screeching rockets long past my sleep time.

    Farm roads: I guess that ones perspective on journey vs. destination changes depending on the comparative value of each upon completion of both.

    1. Oh gosh, I remember the guy now! And the Catherine Wheels - they were my favourites. And the time a certain someone had the clever idea of letting off all the fireworks in one go. And do you remember throwing double happies at each other for days? Back when childhood was spunkier than it is now.

      As for journey vs destination: I think they're both the same thing.

  2. Lovely thought, Sarah. Yes, we must always see what is over the hill.

  3. It's a beautiful photo Sarah. Your writing is so lovely and I love to come and visit your serene place.