I saw the places as you described them, the dull but rich colors of autumn on or near the Atlantic. I took train rides like that in Atlantic Canada, regularly riding between a city in New Brunswick to Halifax in Nova Scotia, when I was young.
It was on those trips, looking out at vistas very similar to yours, that I realized landscapes that one thinks are uninteresting or colorless aren't. When you look deeper at the colors, and translate them - the browns, the duns. the almost reds and the greys and ivories - into heavy velvet, and voila! You have pre-Raphaelite paintings.
I couldn't have discovered that without train rides through the landscape of my childhood and early adulthood.
And everything you wrote brought that back to me. I don't get that immediacy from a lot of writers. You're good.
Many good wishes for the trip. (I realize that sounds really like an appendix after I'm going on about my own trips - it isn't. All good wishes, truly.)
no subject
It was on those trips, looking out at vistas very similar to yours, that I realized landscapes that one thinks are uninteresting or colorless aren't. When you look deeper at the colors, and translate them - the browns, the duns. the almost reds and the greys and ivories - into heavy velvet, and voila! You have pre-Raphaelite paintings.
I couldn't have discovered that without train rides through the landscape of my childhood and early adulthood.
And everything you wrote brought that back to me. I don't get that immediacy from a lot of writers. You're good.
Many good wishes for the trip. (I realize that sounds really like an appendix after I'm going on about my own trips - it isn't. All good wishes, truly.)