Wellness in the Mountains
It has just rained. Soft, dense and moist autumn leaves cushion our steps, and I have the urge to pounce beneath the leafy heaps like a cat, to dig my paws into the fluffy earth, to be covered head to toe in nature.
Yanez Borella, whose shadow I have been tailing, picks something offthe ground.
“Close your eyes,” he says. “Now tell me what this smells like.”
I tentatively follow his instructions, in the hope that this isn’t a boyish trick, and take a blind sniffat the spongy mass he is holding between his fingers.
“When we lose the sense of our sight, other senses sharpen and make us a lot more imaginative than we normally are,” he softly explained as he waited for me to ponder my answer.
It was a familiar smell, something soothing and homely, it was an aroma of log fires and woolly jumpers, of wooden
