From my room I can see out across the town, across the forest, the estuary, to the air force base and the hills and, on a clear day, the mountains. I can spend hours gazing as the clouds blow in or out of the sea, at the changing silhouettes of the hills, at the rain falling in bands of purple and gold, as the sunset lingers for hours. When I should be writing, I watch, trying to see every color, the brilliant white on a seagull’s wing, the flash of windmills turning in the sunlight. I used to watch until I saw the first star of evening, but darkness draws ever later, and now I find that I draw the curtains while it is still light.
As a science-fiction writer I personally prefer to stand still for long periods, like the Quechua, and look at what is, in fact, in front of me: the earth; my fellow beings on it; and the stars.
–Ursula K. Le Guin
I never feel that this watchfulness is wasted, for there is no crime in appreciating beauty or the hand from which beauty cometh; ‘There is no answer to beauty but silence,’ Christopher Morley.