“there's naught as nice as th' smell o' good clean earth, except th' smell o' fresh growin' things when th' rain falls on 'em.”

(frances hodgson burnett, the secret garden)

i've never seen the moors with my own eyes. but i've fallen in love from afar. and sometimes, when my soul is restless and weary, i walk them within my mind and find myself soothed by their ghostly, airy clime.