You choose your days; when the clouds part to leave a clear sky, the sun beckons, even though the air is frosty. In strict chronological order, on my walk from Chynów station back to the działka...
Below: Jakubowizna moonrise. The moon is to the right, just about visible. In the foreground, mud and beastly oomska, the result of the unfinished work by the station - this should shortly become the drive from the road to the newly-opened underground passage that leads to the platforms. The footpath there, at least, is ready.
Below: a neat and tidy village. I am reminded of my mother's remarks when visiting me on Polish scout camp in Honiton, Devon, in 1971. She observed that the farms in England were clean and well looked-after, the result of an economic system that rewards effort, based on the sanctity of private property. If she could see rural Mazovia today, she'd see that she was right. Having worked on a Soviet labour camp in her youth, her observations have a clear frame of reference.
I turn round through 180 degrees. This is the view looking back towards Chynów station, below; it's 20 minutes before sunset (which today is now seven minutes later than the earliest sunset). Dogs are barking furiously in every second farmyard; angry at being left out in the cold, they take their aggression out on every passing human.
Art by accident - how does one use a stencil to get this effect? The question is redundant, as this bus stop no longer functions as one. A lovely bit of design; album-cover material.
Below: moonrise at the Edge - this is the end of Jakubowizna, beyond lies Machcin II, straddling the road. Note the reflection of the setting sun in the basement window of the house to the left of centre. Seven minutes before sunset.
Machcin II. Note how far the moon has risen since the first photo (taken just 23 minutes earlier). Here, I turn left and head northward toward Grobice.
Below: time to head west and return... past the pollarded willows and wintering orchards. Rainwater in the puddles has frozen; crunching over the thin ice is eminently satisfying.
Clear skies, summer or winter, unleash the Sublime Aesthetic. Beauty that contrasts with the Dull or the Grim. My soul is alert to the wonders around me. Qualia, moments that will return, unbidden.
This time three years ago:
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