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Bluff Creek Ranch Loggia Reflections

June 4, 2020
Mark Harman Ranches and Texas Hill Country Land Real Estate Bluff Creek Ranch Johnson city Blanco Couty Texas-IG3

Loggia Reflections log·gia /ˈlōj(ē)ə,ˈlôj(ē)ə/ noun a gallery or room with one or more open sides, especially one that forms part of a house and has one side open to the garden. An open-sided extension to a house.

With sore legs you sit down. It’s not that painful aging kind of sore, it’s just a dull flow of energy and blood that reminds you that you were on your feet today, all day. You’ve spent more time walking than sitting, a welcome change from so many years at a desk and in the car. Today’s traffic pattern included a flock of turkeys and a surprised whitetail buck.

You woke up and decided to “check the fences”, an excuse to grab a pair of gloves, some wire, and some cutters, pack them in your pocket and just enjoy a walk on the ranch. You told yourself you were being productive, and you were. When you sat down and took your boots off in the bedroom, you found a bit of twisted wire in your back pocket still. You smiled, twisted it, and put it on the dresser as a memento.

You showered in the outdoor shower. Coming inside from this unrestricted day just felt like an abrupt end to the fresh air and cicada melody that greeted your final steps to the side door. As quickly as you could, you stepped in to grab fresh clothes and a towel, then debated on the merits of a hot shower or a cold one. You chose cold. You wanted to wake up a bit.

On your way from the bedroom to the kitchen, you stepped through the loggia that connects them. A liminal space that is neither inside nor outside. It just is, blending the surrounding landscape into the nearby hardscape and then into an interior space. You smile as you dash through it, hoping quickly to return and to sit. The cork pops, the redness gurgles out of the dark glass bottle and small bubbles form at the edge of the glass. Holding their tannic shape for just a moment, then bursting into fragrance. It’s been a long day, but a great day. Something that would appear from the outside to be ordinary, but for you, it’s been intensely gratifying.

So, your legs are sore. Now, in this moment, you appreciate it and smile. You swirl, sniff, take a sip, throw your head back and exclaim at the brilliance of the flavor. It’s the perfect pairing for the blossom-smell in the air that drifts through the passageway where you are sitting.

The loggia isn’t like the porch, It’s not expansive, nor does it overhang anything. It’s rather like the lens of a camera, focusing your attention on a small cross-section of the countryside. It’s not built to please just the eyes, it’s meant to encase and encompass, to create space to be present. Neither her nor there.

A red dot appears in that corner where the roof meets the stone on the wall. It’s the smallest corner of the sun, setting over the hillside. Just enough light leaking in so that you don’t mind looking at it. You can see a small swallow dipping in after abandoning the chase of a small insect.

You’re surrounded by a few chairs, you imagine who will sit in them next, you remember the poignant moments you’ve had at this table already. How the days seamlessly transition into late nights on so many occasions. You smile and roll your eyes, remembering.

It’s happening again, too, that slow fade of light from day to dusk to night. You don’t even realize it’s been an hour, or has it been two? “Dinner’s ready!” the familiar voice calls from the kitchen. You rock back on to your sore legs, smile at them, beam into an almost empty glass, drain it, and ask that part of you that hates to leave to cool it, and let your stomach have a turn. You know you can come back here tomorrow, and as many days after as you like.

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