Invisible landscapes

In the last few days a sludgy gloom has descended, temperatures have risen and a fine rain has been blowing gently across us in misty skirts, feeling somewhat like being attacked by a giant atomizer. All the lights in the main college buildings have been switched on all day, making the concrete glow and emphasizing the perpetual gloom outside. This slide into the first half of winter has an interesting effect on the gardeners who at the best of times feel like ruminants in the landscape. Melting back between the dark stands of trees, in November our shadows vanish and the wild birds and animals lose their fear of us. Heads down, the office workers scuttle from one warm building to another, and thrown into relief we undergo a mental shift, entering into a northern European mind set. We have no choice but to embrace the bare minimalism of a garden stripped down to its angular framework. Strange static squelches and whistles leek through from space as we spin the dial to re-tune to our internal landscape, where daydreams float under the movements of winter birds, and bright contrails that dart across the globe threaten to break the spell. It's not for everyone this internal journey, but I have already half welcomed its arrival by coating my snow white ipod with an electro ambient gloss of coolness. Beamed into the bright heart of my living pod are the following artists... Tangerine Dream-'Dream Sequence', Sigur Ross-'Takk', Boards Of Canada -'Music Has The Right To Children', Trentemøller -'The Last Resort', Brian Eno-'Music For Airports' and Northaunt with the tracks that I have so far, 'Horizons' and 'Autumn Cold'. As the atmosphere thins and the emptiness of space presses down on the garden, headphones are de-rigeur this season!