The Downs

It's impossible to feel claustrophobic on the Downs. You can get lost by simply starring too hard at the horizon. The expanse is constantly changing colour with the light and the seasons; I have no favourite. It even has it's own little community: runners wearing the grass to mud with their head-torches and various assorts of lycra, mums and dads with dogs and prams watching Saturday football matches, commuters framing the rosy light from the sunrise in their long lines of cars, students hurrying with heavy backpacks and students lolling home, couples falling in and out of love, friends on weekend walks and the lone rangers stomping out their inner monologues. Every morning I feel part of it's routine as I scurry across the frosty fields to school and every morning it lifts my spirits and reminds me of bigger pictures. Even on the weekends I cannot resist its charm as it consolidates new friendships and helps to settle a frantic mind. Last week I walked into the settling dusk and began to acknowledge how important this space has been since moving back here. It is part of the Bristol continuum and yet it is impossible not to experience its beauty anew again and again.