Where does a landscape begin —and where does it end? Which is to say: Where is its edge? We are tempted to think that landscapes just go on and on indefinitely—one vista giving way to another, one stretch of land blending into the next. And if this is the case, is not any attempt to deter-mine, even to imagine, an edge, an act of human hubris?
More pointedly: Does a landscape have any edge other than an arbitrary one?