Spirit of Place

Is it just encroaching twilight time that puts me in reflective frame of mind? I feel I've been here before - but that this is not Poland. Is this Kentucky in the 1930s? I see this old farmhouse from our kitchen window. It triggers strong atavistic resurgences - all around is so familiar, yet not associated with anything I remember.

Spirit of place abounds. The land, the light, the sounds and smells; there's nothing of England here. These are sublime moments when the mind becomes detached from the physical, and consciousness transcends time and place.