Genius Loci-protective Spirit of place, the essence or Spirit of Place
I grew up in Whitefield, NH; a town I always felt belonged in the story ‘the Outsiders’, or in an episode of ‘Twilight Zone’; where the people exist in a time-warp bubble, stuck on the wrong side of the tracks in the 1950’s. In a romantic sense; it was a place where it felt good to be a little bit naughty. A place where rules were meant to be bent, and the people had seen a thing or two. Yet it retained a strange wholesomeness; in the fact that everybody knew everybody & as a general rule it was pretty safe. Not to mention there were certainly enough colorful Spirits both living & dead to make it quite interesting.
I do love the adventure of revisiting though, as I am sentimental by nature. I love things that hold essence, spirit and being. I love old letters, and the way scent can transport me back to precise moments in time; when things use to be. I love how visiting the land of my Grammy Brown, can make me 4 years old sitting @ her kitchen table; eating mayonaise toast, drinking coffee milk and playing Psychic games. I love how the streets of a place I use to walk, can whisper stories of my adventures there & I love how the light shining on a pool of water can remind me of all the summers I swam in the water there. I sometimes wish I could slip through the seams of time, and spend just another hour, another day, listening to the sound of my Grandmother rocking away, telling stories of our Dead. Or that I could be a little girl again, learning how to swim, on my fathers back in the rivers of Bretton Woods.