Wednesday, June 8, 2016

British Hills, American Hills

When I was in London, we went to a hill. I think it may have been a famous hill, but I do not remember what it was called. We climbed up the hill with the wind whipping around us. On the top of the hill we saw a couple kissing. They were up high, viewing a beautiful city. They got swept up in the romance of it all and for a moment thought they were part of a romantic movie.

 Around us, British dogs pranced and trotted up the hill and down the hill.

The British dogs all said 'Arf, Arf'' with a dignified British accent, or at least in my thoughts if not in reality.

When I was in England, sometimes I would be talking and suddenly I'd be worried I was being too loud. According to other Americans, people from other countries don't like when we are noisy. I don't even consider myself a noisy person, but I did start to reconsider. Maybe I am nosier than I realize. This concern didn't preoccupy my thoughts too much. Mostly I was too in aw of how beautiful and wonderful everything was to care if I was being obnoxious or not.

When does a hill become a mountain? It seems like sometimes it is arbitrary. Or it is instinct. Something rocky and snow covered is definitely a mountain. Something sloping and covered with swaying blades of grass is definitely a hill.

Where I grew up we had a lot of rolling hills and some hills that some considered mountains. The hills were the prettiest part of the town. That, and the sky at sunset. Smog is gross, but it sure can make for a pretty sunset.

1 comment :

Laurie Duncan said...

You're so lucky to be able to go to London, that is still on my bucket list for sure! :)