It has been some months since the last "Archival Pleasures: Walking to Work". It was summer, and the bees sang and the ground spoke. Now it's October, and the temptation, with so much work in the Archive to be done, is to take the car. Ten minutes vs. an hour. A dark morning, a wet cloud hugging the ground.

But look at those lines of new growth, a green road, a landing strip, a vanishing point of meditation.

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And Georgia O'Keefe's studio in an English hedgerow.

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And a cow, on the footpath and somehow on the wrong side of the electric fence that marks the boundaries of the field. The rest of the herd is on the other side, where the farmer intends. Which of us has not found ourselves on the wrong side of a boundary, separated from the herd? Ears cocked, and slightly surprised?

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And who would miss a freshly ploughed field, and a dream of rising hills?

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And the magnifience of the cold, as a growing year ends.