So I have a million photos (or about 100) that I took on Friday--the Friday I visited Andalusia. I will only share three.
I was not alone in my mid-afternoon adventures; there were about 200 school-age children with all their joyous glory running around the grounds. Laughter was infectious, but seemed to disappear as I wandered along fences and overgrown landscape.
It was peaceful (considering) but a certain eerie feeling followed me all around (aside from the background noise).
(a grazing Hinny)
I thought about the one novel by Flannery that I've read: The Violent Bear It Away (1960), which was written while she was living at Andalusia. I never felt alone for all the rustling in the trees and all the sounds associated with water--be it baptism or drowning.
This really resonated as I sat by one of many ponds on the property--I even wrote a few lines. Pure inspiration. I can't imagine living in such a place where creativity seems to spring forth effortlessly. Of course, as you probably have guessed--it takes a certain "ear" to "hear" it all.
Flannery had this "ear."
Maybe I was able to "hear" it too (albeit briefly).