Sale Fell lies at the westerly edge of the English Lake District, looking out towards the Solway coast and the Scottish hills that lie over the water, whilst guarding the fringe of the north west fells that so dramatically margin this rugged landscape. It is a modest beauty combining lovely walks, views, splendid birds (of which pied flycatcher and green woodpecker are good examples) and wonderful opportunities for picnics and breathers.It has an interesting geology with outcrops of pure white rock marking the top like sheep biologically washed in the latest washing powder. It has been the location of films, murders, passionate love embraces and probably much much more. May it long watch over us.
the landslip of the season
heralds a coming of green
as the scape of the horizon
outlines the sight of spring
Its springtime the birds are spinning into action and song as the migrants return and the quest for a breeding partner resumes. Its time to get the paints out after a serious bout of artistic “bloc” – or perhaps sheer laziness. My creative energies have been channelled into music of late for sure – but its now lovely to splash a few watercolours around and make a real mess on paper!
Here’s my Christmas card to all my avid readers, Sorry – I know its late but Santa dropped the parcel and couldn’t find it till now …. sorry. He’s been kept busy with a flooded house and a requirement to consume more than usual copious amounts of single malt Scotch whisky … sorry. But merry Christmas anyway and may the spirit of peace and joy inhabit your souls through this coming year. Sorry ……..
Frustrated by the effort of trying to paint something, I let the paint and brushes guide my work. Quickly the remembered coastline emerges from my collected unconsciousness to take on a form that echoes. Trying not to be concerned with producing something to be hung about or sung about the, art magic happens. It might not be detailed, or recognisable as anything, but it lies in its own honesty as a little bit of fresh.
The hum of the lawn blurs with the sweet chitterlings of birds – worn out from their chasing, mating, sitting, watching, dashing, singing, struggling lives of springtime as we move into summer. The garden grows wilder by the second, ferning and fronting in an explosion of green, highlighted by the coming flowers of the high season. In the absence of any more immediate inspiration I take my watercolorist outside and play at capturing my experience of the garden into a small series of humble sketches.