The cheer of red on a gray day, photo by jeanne lightbody, writing by Wendell Berry, whom I admire.
When the weather is good, sometimes when it is only tolerable, I am drawn to the woods on the local hillsides or along the streams […]. In such places, on the best of these sabbath days, I experience a lovely freedom from expectation — other people’s and also my own. I go free from the tasks and intentions of my workdays, and so my mind becomes hospitable to unintended thoughts: to what I am very willing to call inspiration. The poems come incidentally or they do not come at all. If the Muse leaves me alone, I leave her alone. To be quiet, even wordless, in a good place is a better gift than poetry. (or photography.)