The Temple of the Four Winds; continued, Bluestars

In spring , les cantons de la Vaude were a riot of green, gold, blue, purple and white. Sunshine on treebark had a transient glow, that betrayed a chameleon chroma progressing to sunset hues of burnished cinnabar. Orange pink shot through with gold.
Heloise rejoiced in Gods creation-(She could plainly see; that everywhere it was apparent, the hand of the creator was visible in all that now unfolded before her.
Twice monthly, she had two free days wherein her time was all her own. A favourite diversion was walking in the general vicinity of the vast parklike acreage, just beyond the orchard perimeter; that bounded the convent walls on its' southern and eastern flanks.
Here began the wilder wooded region of Oak and Ash groves- spreading outwards in all directions.
The area was intersected at random by numerous mazelike footpaths-and Heloise brought a packed lunch, making a day of her wanderings. The air, she found refreshing, the birdsong; uplifting- and it was during these perambulations, she felt nearest her beloved God. Had he not created all this natural beauty with his two bare hands? She asked herself. -Two mighty hands , skilled , massive giant hands, ( all powerful, but all knowing , all gentle harmony )- Was he not the prime mover in all things? She tended to think of the almighty as a -"Heavenly Father"; (the white haired, bearded patriarch of the Cappella Sistina variety ), a bodily , corporeal form ; she ascribed to the divinity in her minds eye, despite her disdain for her own and other earthbound forms. In these, she noted weakness and imperfections.
Heloise wandered on drinking the air before her - she relished the solitude which gave her the feeling that she owned the pathways and the experience of walking them- on her own. , Hating it , when interrupted by encountering any other like minded walkers , ( with dogs or otherwise ). This somehow ruined the meditative oneness of being in direct communication with "the creator".HIM... For this reason, she often enjoyed going " off piste "; as she put it , " what an original thought!" she exclaimed to herself... haring off through the undergrowth and twiggery, thus avoiding the possibility of any unwanted meetings.
This could prove difficult given her Nuns' habit, Gray peplum and wimpled and winged headgear. However, she took pains and somehow managed to gradually move from clearing to clearing.
In the centre of the wood was a large low hill; wooded to the top where a vantage point comprising two stepped plateaux gave onto a wooded ring of clearings and copsewood. At the centre of the higher plateau, stood an old Belvedere, dating from 1759;- "The Temple of the Four Winds"- as it was known to les Vaudeoise- had been part of an estate holding, of Les Vaudin de Vaude la Desosser- from time immemorial-.
Now an elegant ruin, the neo classical structure took the form of a small , openwork marble replica of the ancient temple of Cybele , ( Vesta ) , at Rome. Its marble collonade, held up a dentellated architrave, which in turn, held the circular portico roofed with old blue ceramic tile of the colour of smalt. Above this , a wrought iron weathervane, (much rusted), in the form of an astrolabe spun willfully in the tempermental breeze.
Inside this gem of an antique folly, - an ode to neo-classicism; stood a central plinth of finest pink Parian, ... thereon a marble Pan of the same stone; engaged in full chase of, ...( and on point of capture of...) a laughing Maenad , nude and nubile, but for a spraying cascade of carved blooms that tumbled as garland between her legs, just covering the dusky Mons Veneris, just hidden tantalizingly from view. The Randy Satyr, ( also nude ), by contrast , sported the remains of an attentive Phallus-(long since broken off by a vandal, or antiquarian collector). His fawns ears were intact, his youthful torso and thighs tapered to goats hooves beneath; shaggy with the finely tooled fur of a wild animal.
Loosely modeled on the Apollo and Daphne of the Bernini Baroque, the unknown sculptor had spared no attention to detail- the animated vitality of the dynamic , lifelike composition conveyed a great sense of upward movement, lift and thrust- in an essentially static medium.
( It was a real fixed contradiction-; dynamic movement conveyed in frozen stasis) - the human forms strained for eternity; to break free from material encasement- imprisoned forever in the stone, but always on the verge of release.
Heloise hated the work; ( considering it a pagan affront to the one true GOD , and a corrupting influence among the novices, and youth generally in the banlieu).

Heloise made her way towards this structure-, not to see it, but to get the fantastic panoramic view- that could only be had from that spot.... she was tired , hungry and sat down at last , on a marble bench in front, beside the low embankment upon which the whole structure stood.
She sighed with relief in the warm midday sun of early June. Bees buzzed distractedly in the gently wafting breezes- large white cumulus powderpuffs of cloud- placed evenly at intervals drifted slowly above in the blue ether. Each was small enough to never impede the suns rays- slowly scudding towards her over a warm sunny landscape- she gazed far out over the land- the fields of new green shoots, golden and green light- Oak leaf burgeonings lately arrived- almost copper orange veined with green saponified yellow in spangles of shimmering windripple.

Heloise contentedly nibbled her sandwiches , drank the lemonade- all was right with the world- doves cooed in the nearby copsewood- insects beamed and new leaves whispered softly about her. Yet, ... something , one small thing was amiss, ... the presence of the old folly behind her, the presence of the old belvedere, ... she felt it behind her - almost burning a hole in her back, into the back of her head and the core of her psyche.