With countless churches dating back centuries, it is easy to become saturated in their opulence. For me, there is too much to see. My quiet times in these revered places of worship are distracted by much artistry.
An elegant stone arch bridge lead to charming steep hills. It is as though the hills were dipped in concrete. Stone houses were stacked on top. Not a patch of earth to be seen. On slopes like these, earth would have long since wash away. It is well worth the climb.
Not conforming to 8:45am daylight, I’m off at 6:00am in the dark. There are always others walking with headlights shining too. Joyously I ran into a UK couple. Their son travels to meet them today. He has new underwear for each parent. They are rapturous over the prospect of this gift. Perhaps I should have had children.
Flowers blooming in mid-October deserve more recognition.
As Jonah is swallowed by a fish, I am swallowed by the clouds. What a calming effect a lack of clarity has.
The most advantageous views of Vigo, a bustling commercial harbor, is from a distance. Fog was suspended between the ocean and sky. The view down was tremendous.
Tap, tap, tap…the sound is coming from the church. Its door is cracked open so I slipped inside. Restoration is a never finished task.
Why have one or the other if you can have both? Start the day in the woods and end on the beach. Merging two routes is a bit dicey. One minute I’m spot-on according to the GPS and minutes later I’m way off base. A local offers gloriously simple redemption, “Just keep walking any street that goes down and you’ll end at the beach.” I pocketed my devise and let gravity lead the way.
Crossing over.
Pewter sky. Pewter ocean.
Linda Scandore 