A sense of place

 We were walking south, into the sun. We’d just observed the solstice the night before, so the sun was low in the sky, even at midday.

As we were going down the hill, the sun hit the ground directly, drying it out. Going up the northern slope, the direct light was blocked by the hill. It’s not as if you’re in a shadow, but the light is diffused. Without that direct sunlight hitting the ground, the soil is wetter.

The soil is the same on both sides of the hill. The rainfall is the same. But the northern slope is a little wetter. It’s where you’ll often find beech trees, which like a little more moisture than the oaks, pines and hickories.

A place is not just a set of Global Position System coordinates. A place has features that we humans are slow to notice. Only gradually do we come to a sense of it.