March 03, 2008

Lost horizon

We ran on Sunday, for the first time this year, up to the hermitage and most of the way back, until we stopped to avoid running into the pack of farmers' dogs who were on the road around the lower half of the village.

We ran around the hermitage, admiring the white blossom of the almond trees, and as we came around the building and started back the way we'd come, we could see the last remaining snow, the thinnest of strips on the very top of the Sierra. But beyond that, behind the next hermitage on the hill, just to our north, where there is a gap in the Sierra, we could see all the way to Monte Perdido, fifty kilometres away on the border with France. We came back to look at it again a little later, and caught a touch of sun, even though it was only the second day of March: but Monte Perdido was white as the almond blossom, still covered with snow, looking like a giant iced bun on the horizon.

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