Very small sojourns in the Swiss Alps

I came home from travels abroad March 29, a matter of poor timing, via an eerily empty world of airports I hadn’t planned to visit – 6 days of being bounced around en route to Geneva. I wandered through soundless stations, to a world that had been shutting down for nearly two weeks.

Travel would mean, for the next few weeks, walking up and down the mountainside road that passes in front of my home, wandering around the garden as it wakes up from its winter sleep, chatting with peacefully quiet neighbours: the spotted milk cows who are enjoying spring forays into the pastures around me.

Voyages, or rather sojourns now, dislodge our usual ways of perceiving the world, if we let them. We don’t need to travel far, just past our daily boundaries, physical and mental ones. My views of the vineyards have been from high above them lately, where I’m obliged to think more about the streaks of light and rain that pass through the vines, rather than the plants themselves.

Stepping back for the long view is good for the soul. It’s undoubtedly good for the wine, too. Vignerons do it when they’re at work and I suspect the wines gain from being put in perspective.