All right, I know I’m falling into a rut of transcribing snippets from “The Diary of a Russian Priest” just about every day. But I hope that my gentle readers will see why it is that I am so fond of this book. What a great thing it is to be able to share Fr. Elchaninov’s thoughts and impressions, and in this case, even to share in his joy at the profound beauty of creation.

Today, I had a delightful walk. At first the ascent was rather dull — along an almost invisible path winding amidst chalk embankments through a forest of low, sparse pines. However, there were incidents to compensate for this: a hare sprang almost from under my feet; I wandered across barberry-bushes and sweet-briar, shedding its blossoms.I walked slowly, reading, as I went, the Orthros service and the Hours, sitting down to rest from time to time. I mounted the hill for about two hours and then reached a pass: immediately the whole landscape was transformed. To the left, a small village scattered round a church; to the right, lovely meadows, and directly beyond the pass, an endless view opening on the mountains, streaked and spotted with snow. Around me and quite near to me — torn, craggy rocks. Below — green slopes of forest; and about all, an extraordinary, snow-saturated atmosphere and absolute silence. Only from below came the sound of the brook, and a hidden spring was babbling somewhere under a rock.

I sat for a long time, enjoying the stillness, the mountains, the fragrance. At my side some immortelles were blooming, such as I have never seen before, blue with a heart of deep violet. In the valley below there were no flowers at all, but here on the hillside they were as abundant as if they had sprung, not from the earth, but from the air and sun. And I thought: this is why mountains are so beautiful; through them, as through a friendship with some wise human being, one drinks in freshness, clarity, calm — the qualities born of altitudes.

– Fr. Alexander Elchaninov, “The Diary of a Russian Priest”