Ashridge

I have spent one week in Ashridge, for a company training. The course was nice, and the people I have met is exceptional. But the most impressive thing is the place. Not only the medieval monastery, carefully mantained and restored as college; and not even the gym, with its swimming pool and turkish bath. The garden attracted me the most. At every chance I would walk through it and lose myself. Usually it would start with an amazingly ordered field, or a small court full of fragant roses. Then I would reach the outskirt, and the more I would walk away from the monastery, the wilder it would become. It felt like I was exploring a forrest, and myself with it. Occasionally I would be surprised by a beautiful red-wood, or by a giant oak. I turned left, and found a treasure of unexpected grace. And then the deers would run away, looking at me as the intruder I am. It felt like being kicked out, but I do not belong there.

Today I have saluted the park. It's the last time in my life I will see it. My walk was longer, and slower; I could not let go. So much beauty in one go, too much for me. I looked at it, said goodbye, and my cheast felt empty, and my legs went weak. I'll fly back soon, I am only waiting.