The valley opens like a hand. Terraced fields run gold and green down to a cluster of grey-roofed houses, and behind the houses the mountains go up into cloud, layer after layer, until the tops disappear into white. A stone wall marks the edge of the path, and beyond it a bamboo fence leans the way old fences do, holding a tangle of vines. Mist sits in the folds of the hills like it's resting there. One tall tree stands alone in the fields, keeping watch over everything. I walked down slowly, the way you walk into a room where someone is sleeping. The air smelled of wet stone and ripening grain. Nothing here is in a hurry. Even the clouds seem to have decided to stay a while. #mountainvillage #goldenfields #mistymountains
