Finding comfort in the green hills outside my window

As I mentioned in a recent post, I moved to a new home a few months ago. My new place sits atop a hill, and the window to the right of my desk happens to look away from the city, over the tops of the houses opposite and off into the green hills beyond. I can see all the way to the trees on the horizon.

It’s a shame that I can’t post a photo without the risk of doxxing myself. I wouldn’t say it’s especially picturesque. You wouldn’t put it on a postcard - the electricity pylons and roads are a firm reminder that this is not, in fact, the countryside. But those rolling - albeit cluttered - hills are still a welcome contrast to the density of the City and the grime of the local high street.

I feel as though that view keeps me in touch with nature, if only by a strand. On frosty mornings, the greenery takes on a pale hue. When the rainclouds roll in, the hills disappear behind a sheet of grey mist. On sunny days, I can see the shadows cast by the clouds drifting across the landscape. And in the bright spring evenings, my wife and I watch some fantastic sunsets disappear over the horizon, bathing our living room in golden light on the way.

Until I moved, I didn’t realise how much I was missing without this light and airiness. For seven years, I lived in a studio flat that faced west. My view was of the wall of the building opposite. In the winter, the sun often didn’t reach my window at all, setting before it moved far enough around in the sky. And even in the summer, it was partially obstructed by the tree cover outside.

If all you can see is man-made structures, then it feels impossible to look past man-made problems.

If all you can see is man-made structures, then it feels impossible to look past man-made problems. My distant view of the landscape is a reminder of the true constants - the hills, the weather - that continue to exist no matter what we build on top. For thousands of years, people have observed them in the same way. That’s a calming thought in the face of day-to-day stresses.

When I bought the place, the view barely factored into my decision - it was just a nice bonus. But after living here for a while, I think green sightlines have become a greater consideration if I ever decide to move again. It’s almost as though humans weren’t built to stare at grey tarmac every day.