One beautiful aspect of walking at night is the relationship of the scenery to the moonlight and the phases of the moon. Familiar sights can be transformed from the depths of shadow to a resplendent scene in an instant making even a regular journey a different experience every time.
One such place for me is a glade to the western fringe of a Nottinghamshire wood. The closeness to the fields and the greater spacing of the trees seems to act in a way to collect the moonlight and sets itself aglow with the silver light. A fine sight with the woodland undergrowth shifting shadows onto the earth and spectacular living columns of the trees standing proud against the darkness of the deeper wood. Sitting within the centre of the glade are the roots and lower trunk of a fallen tree. Its curious fracture line forms a rustic chair with a seat and a rising shard of its old sapwood to create a back rest.
I often stop for a moment to appreciate the sight before me, but strangely I have never felt the urge to sit within the rustic chair, perhaps something within me tells me the experience would not be as comfortable as I would hope, but also to step into the scene seems an inappropriate imposition. In a moment the scene can fade to grey as the cloud covers the moon but retains its form in the veiled and reflected light. Passing by the glade within the hours of daylight I find it blends with the surrounding wood and is impossible to see the qualities it shows in the night. This is supported by the walkers I have observed marching by without even giving a glance in its direction. It is indeed a pity to see people missing such splendour. There are lessons I carry from this place to help me understand the perspectives of light, scene, passing time, seasons and the elements. I hope you will one day find such a place, a place that is both ordinary and completely spectacular.
