Autumn
The Last of the Golden Leaves...
The weeping birch always looks spectacular in November. The last of the gold shimmer until next year.
Magnetic Inspiration
In my studio, I have one of those magnetic poetry kits on my fridge.
Why not pair up the phrases with some imagery?
Here is my little sketch painting to go with the words.
Cranberry Fields...
...let me take you down / cranberry fields....nothing is real... and nothing to get hung about....
bird, nest, egg
Having fun doing some messy paintwork. You never know what is going to turn up and the bird, perhaps a kingfisher, appeared out of nowhere. How nice.
Barcelona Sketches
One of the angels descending from the Christopher Columbus Column.
People out and about in the winding Gothic Quarter alleys.
Angel from one of the many entrances of the Sagrada Familia.
The amazing cathedral of Girona.
equinox
Some folk mark the equinox by fantastic gigantic feathered serpents of light sliding down their pyramid....
I have to settle for something a little less extravagant but that which marks time in the same way.
My weeping birch begins to change her colours. Just a hint of yellow beginning now. Summer is saying her good-byes.
The Wind Element
Wind- an element we take for granted, but suddenly remembered when spring changes to summer for the softer breezes that come hold many qualities. Warmth, softness and a tangible feeling that one can sense but not put into words with the intellect.
There is a sense of feeling where the wind has been. This wind that is visiting you is knowing and has seen. It has blown through the smoke of clear cuts, over the heat rising off cracked dry river beds, it has blown through waterfalls, witnessed human confusions, harm, joys and achievements. It remembers you from last year and is visiting you now.
Remember to greet what can not be seen.
In Praise of the Earth - By John O'Donohue
Let us bless
The Imagination of the Earth.
That knew early the patience
To harness the mind of time,
Waited for the seas to warm,
Ready to welcome the emergence
Of things dreaming of voyaging
Among the stillness of land.
And how light knew to nurse
The growth until the face of the Earth
Brightened beneath a vision of color.
When the ages of ice came
And sealed the Earth inside
An endless coma of cold,
The heart of the Earth held hope,
Storing fragments of memory,
Ready for the return of the sun...