EVENING IN EL
frogs have come to life with the waning of the light, their calls a cacophony
of chirps and gurgles, gribbets and squawks. The evening mist descends
step by step into the valleys, slowly obscuring them from sight, until
all that is left is a blanket of white cotton tucking them up for the
The birds had their moment earlier, when the sky glowed orange and purple.
Now they wait for the first light to come and claw them from their slumber.
The light fades fast, like photos left out in the sun for too long. It's
The crickets have joined the frogs now, a giant animal auditorium. Now
and again, the electric-like call of one of them sets off another and
another, a chain of sounds, each clear and true.
The enchanter Light, incanting different
shades and hues, conjuring the patterns of patchwork. Shadows caress the
landscape like ancient lovers, knowing each and every curve of the hills.
Some days they race passionately across, their desire ardent, youngsters
again. Other days they slip and slide slowly, taking their time to savour
and remember, not wanting to move on, in case this is the last time.
Nothing ever remains the same, as if a new painter were employed every
day to interpret this world. The light plays tricks, the grand conjuror
up in the sky, never revealing his secrets. A mountain is unveiled, a
forest prised from the haze, the painter's brush dabbing bit by bit to
bring it to life. And what life !
The landscape with its colours and textures, its plants, trees, rivers
and falls, constantly calling the eye to look once more, to reappraise
and think again. Nothing is obvious, nothing bland and repetitive. The
palm which breaks the uniformity of the plains, bold and valiant, its
crown of leaves swaying in the winds, and the straggling shrubs, the wisps
of grass, the rocks caught in the evening light.
And always there are the sheer cliffs off in the distance, tepuis which
puncture the horizon with their ancient angular shoulders. They call you
from the road, beckoning you to come closer to feel their power and their
age, drawing you into their secrets and their majesty.
For they are old, older than we could possibly imagine, and they have
seen all the wonders of nature, and every folly of man. Untouchables in
this fragile landscape of dreams.