We have been in the country this weekend, on Mrs Hickory's farm with a group of friends, a hot sun and a lot of vary varied life. Over the next few days I imagine I shall add to these jottings regularly, musing on what I have seen there. It is always new, because the seasons change and the cycles does not repeat, every year is unique. Panta rhei, as Heraclitus observed, and lovers of beauty are grateful for it. Farmers not quite so much.
The roses in the garden are beautiful at this time of year; I offer a single photo. On Saturday we went to a place known as zampullones o zampullanos, where the river Pinilla springs from a series of cracks in the rocks and sweeps (or gurgles) through a reed-filled valley to the Laguna Blanca, where the Ruidera lakes begin. Of the lakes we will speak another day. Today I offer a picture of the birth of a river, a miracle of beauty, rather than of biology.
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