I am back from a walking holiday in the Austrian Alps. Despite the concerns others had voiced, the trip did not diminish my childhood memories of the place, replacing sparkling memories with dull reality. Instead, the world there remained was lush and green, smelling of pine and wet grass and unplanned flowers. The morning haze was burnt away by glorious sunlight to leave blue skies were peppered with fluffy clouds. When it rained, the sky turned grey and covered the world, and sonorous thunder rumbled around the mountains. Clear nights gave sheer blackness, pinpricked with glittering stars except where absences told you clouds or peaks blocked their light.
I close my eyes now, and what I see makes my heart sing. In my mind's eye, I'm still dancing in the mountains.