Distances recede in the mist, and this morning the valley is enveloped in a layer of cotton-wool mist which deadens sound and limits the vista, the view. 
We can just make out the griffon vultures’ hillside [above] but no sight of the buitres which will be huddled on their perches high in the trees, waiting for the warmth of the sun… 
… the curves and pink tones of the col are becoming more defined as I watch [above]… 
… the magnificent oak [above] which stands over the hilltop olive grove of Pablo’s brother, hermano, looms out of the white ghostliness like a sentinel watching over the valley… 
… the highest col at the western edge of the valley [above] drifts in and out of sight as the barely-existent breeze starts to stir the blankness… 
… and then we can see for the first time the distinctive encima, the oak tree, on the hillside opposite [above].
5 to remember
la distancia – distance
va perdiendo en la distancia – it [something] recedes from view
la neblina – mist
esta envuelta en neblina – it is enveloped in mist
una capa – a layer
Notes on a Spanish Valley 
❤
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Write all your captions in one list and you have an evocative poem.
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Thank you, you are very kind. I’m not so bad at rhyming, but poetry is not my strong point. I wouldn’t subject you to it! SD
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I’m not one for rhymes either, but your phrasing is lovely, your observations precise. And very poetic. It’s in your soul.
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I too thought it was a poetic one. The words flow so smoothly. You really had the ‘recipe’ for a poem there.
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Thx. Maybe I should have a go, I guess it’s the journalist in me that makes poetry difficult to reach out to. SD
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Thx. SD
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Love both the images and the words. I love watching the mist coming and going on the hills, changing the picture of what is there.
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Yes I know what you mean, when I was young I used to imagine other worlds that were just out of reach. SD
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