Read along with me and I photo challenge you to see the picture I see:
After a long days’ hike up a verde ferned mountain, covered by tall handsome perfuming pines, jagged paths amidst shiny rocks, as well as slopes speckled by delightful dainty floral sprinkles and purple irises – we stopped around sunset, at the only flat piece of ground we’d seen.
It was time to set up camp. Suddenly, we saw the sun go down, slipping away from the over-bearing, protective clouds, behind the meeting mountains, which is a gorgeous sight considering, that we had been eye to eye with it while unloading our gear. We ran out towards it to the edge of the trees, and the steep drop looked up wondering where we were going, for there was nothing ahead, after all. I don’t know what happened after that.
All fell quiet and she found herself leaning with both hands on a knee braced on a sturdy rock, looking down at the city she’d left behind, the gushing-ever-rushing river Beas below, and the surrounding Pir-Panjal range, blue-ing into the distance.
She took a deep breath of the cool pining air, and her thoughts flew away into the many valleys beyond. She wished them well from her heart, often in her dreams, the beautiful people of Kashmir; believing that soon people on both sides of the border would come to a standstill in face of the beauty of their own loved realm, and turn it into serene calm.