The picture is blurred. The world also. Its borders.
Vred Bled. 2:32 p.m.. A rainy day.
The clock says Kensington. Or give the air. The decor is Mexican (painting on the back wall and niche statue) and really gives the air. Grapes, green forever, is plastic. Luce is English, it comes from Brighton, but currently lives in a mountain chalet in Chamonix. As the chocolate on the table. Alpine. Andres is Chile's son goes to school with my daughter, wazemmes, we are neighbors. We talk. He wrote in Chile on the landscape with large letters ice me with red wooden letters. Small world. In his emphasis boss is a foreigner, it confirms that the city of Tourcoing. Time innkeeper at Oleron. Then return to the North by Vred.
spaces intersect. Take care of each other. Via holders who have crossed. Did that. And change the second function of the first. Natural areas, to stay a little bit natural, must protect it. Here in
Vred, the Gauls were there long ago. No TVs, no Internet. And unlike the prehistoric men present, one can imagine that these Gauls were, at times, visiting people in costume (prehistoric man did is not as bare, the hair is probably different in different tribes, the differences were not probably more subtle than a unified fashion, culture) as Romans or Vikings few (to return to this history of costume, I walk a bit I think, as a result of research, I noticed that for breeches, they were similar to the Gauls, Romans and Vikings: The proof is here on e-bay where one surfer sells breeches new Romain Gauls Vikings).
The Gauls were there then. Times intersect. the village was given to the abbey of Anchin at its founding in 1079. The Gauls were warming probably already peat (spaces intersect in me: I lived two years in Ireland, Oughterard, the gateway to Connemara, the river at the end of the garden ending in Lough Coriib, winter I warmed myself in the peat, the rest of the village too, which gave the space a particular smell, that of peat burned, and a feeling of community in those smoking chimneys at dusk, catching the rays moon ... but I digress ...) (I'm not actually in the thick of it: the perception of space is not doing that very subject by arriving with his story, his eyes and his idea of "nature" ... )
It told me so, and it shows again, there just not in the ancestral bog. And the story is easily conceivable in my mind slowly sticks instead. It informs me and I raise my eyes to this information: "The Bog Vred, continental wetland with an area of 41 ha., Part of the alluvial system of the lower Scarpe (nearly 40 000 ha). It is based on peaty alluvium where water flows very difficult because of the virtual absence of slope: between 16 and 17.5 m, the site tends to describe a dish from its surroundings. Geologically, the reserve is characterized by an accumulation of heterogeneous tertiary sand and clay layers based on chalk.
The reserve is one of the last three active alkaline bogs in the region. Indeed, the peat was previously operated (thirteenth until the late eighteenth century), an activity that was later superseded by mowing and gardening practices promoted by the establishment of a major drainage system that still exist today (many ditches, more or less land, dotted throughout the reserve). Two ponds are present on the reserve: a pond and a second fighter, further south. Hunting waterfowl there; fishing is, in turn, occasionally.
The variety of environments (woods, ponds, reedbeds, sphagnaies) and the many vegetation units (33 total) are home to a surprising diversity of life (plants, invertebrates, vertebrates and dream).
To date, this heritage is rich, at least: 267 plant species (17 protected), more than 170 species of fungi (including 15 unique to the region) 98 species of spiders and harvestmen, 16 species of Odonata, 6 species of amphibians (Rana arvalis which), 98 bird species (nearly 60 nesting) ... The poplar and black ash are also noted, especially in the north and east of the Great Bog. With the marsh Marchiennes, the site hosts no doubt one of the last Northern peatlands still active, especially with floating bog woodland phaignes more or less unique at the regional level. On fifty acres of valuable wetland habitats have been able to differentiate, harboring a flora and plant communities of the most rare and most original of Nord-Pas-de-Calais. "
Still, my mind is also a bog, a deep pond in which the suspended particles are floated, floating, I'm so watered information that these particles become suspended crust, I move over easily, posing again, if attention is lacking, the foot in a trap, a less "solid" ... fallen, I do not work anymore on the water, my body gets depressed, below the ice shelf of mud, nine to ten feet of water ... where suspended particles are not so crusty strength, strength that would not exist without the amniotic fluid, feeder carrier ... At the top of the Twelve Bens, Ben Bulben another mountain or spongy Connemara, soil and water "it contains, or vice versa, the water that contains soil, carries the vibration of each step very far.
If I jump in the air, the wave of my fall will be collected at a dozen yards away by a neighbor.
Can we perceive things without always bring them home?
