While taking a walk this morning I was struck once again by how beautiful the scenery around Canowindra is. It helps that we're entering summer, and the early morning is one of the most glorious times of this season (i.e. before it hits 30 degrees).
The landscape is, of course, just a random collection of trees, grass and dirt so why do I use words like 'beautiful' and 'glorious'?
It's an old argument, but it still carries weight with me. If there is no God, why does such non-sense resonate with our souls? Why does an arbitrary collection of earth and grass please us?
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Hi, James!
Good to read from you again - it seems that you are intent on leaving at least one post per month... and I like that! In fact, it would really upset me (and Ruth, I am guessing) if you did miss out a month: nothing worse than an incomplete list, is there?!
Anyway, regarding your latest musings - do you know the song "Calling out your name", by Rich Mullins? If not, you should check it out; it does resonate with what you wrote (for example the chorus line: "And I hear the prairies calling out your name").
See you next month, when you might find that the fields of Kent in winter can produce the same sentiment... G
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