There's a little patch of land in the foothills of southeastern Ohio with a field surrounded by trees with an up-cupped lip of earth beckoning, with an arched passageway to a field beyond. I thought it would've been the perfect place to sit, with a glimpse of the meadow beyond.
So I was pleased to come across this description in Bleak House yesterday, as it mimics the sensation:
We had one favourite spot, deep in moss and last year's leaves, where there were some felled trees from which the bark was all stripped off. Seated among these, we looked through a green vista supported by thousands of natural columns, the whitened stems of trees, upon a distant prospect made so radiant by its contrast with the shade in which we sat and made so precious by the arched perspective through which we saw it that it was like a glimpse of the better land.