A Sense of Place

A sense of place

What might this mean to have “a sense of place”?

Is it somewhere we know, belong, relate to, feel safe in, are drawn to, feel at home in, long for, dream about, think about often, remember fondly, use as a reference point to compare with other places, place our heart upon, store our treasures there, feel treasured there, go to sleep there, meditate, make love, bring our friends, wish to share with others, keep secret, keep clean and tidy, look after, care for, feel a part of?

Is it large or small, low or high, indoors or outside, here and now or elsewhere, maybe always elsewhere? Is it where our roots are, where we were born and grew up, our parents home, our “heimat”, where our ancestors are buried or roam?

It is and can be all of these things

The scale can be from a mere fleeting thought, through heart-felt musings, a doll’s house filled with carefully placed ideas and memories, a photo album of the past, a room, sitting on a loving parent’s knee, a bench overlooking a mere with birds swooping, swans almost still, gently moving surface, breeze in the leaves of a willow caressing the lake’s edge on a cool Spring morning behind Rostherne church where I was christened.

It could be your first home or your last home, the backyard, street or garden, shared games with mates on a summer’s day, being called in to bed whilst it’s still light, but nearly 9pm.

The smell of pine forest, collecting and cooking wild mushrooms, so much knowledge transmitted by a loving parent, mediated learning of all that surrounds me.

The dales, each so different, yet so familiar, the field patterns, the cows and sheep, ducks and geese flying, dusk sounds of nesting and preparations for the night, open fires, baked potatoes too hot to hold, being part of a group, maybe a family old or new, maybe friends or better in some ways with strangers sharing a love of place, a refuge in the mountains.

Going for a “pee” at 2am, unzipping the tent, no light pollution, Ibex hooves clattering on the rocks below Mont Perdu above a frozen lake at over 2500 metres, the whole sky filled with stars, feeling in awe yet part of the universe. We are all star dust.

             

Write about your “Place”.

An autobiography in 10 chapters. Maybe just the headings with a brief comment on each. Perhaps start with a time line of your life. Then annotate it. Look for the “sense of place”. Could start with a list of “Places where I have lived”.

A set of photos, across time, old and recent and space close up and panoramic views. Could be images of just one place. Google sense of place and look at images.

Transition 2.0 to be shown today!