Distillation and Colour November is usually a time of grey, of bleaching and the last of the chlorophyll leaching away as winter drags her blanket over all. Some stubborn leaves remain, to fall later in gale or frost, others have…
In which there is snow The silence of snow is thick and cushioned, the light diffused, reflected, refracted, contradictory. Twigs, branches and trunks are blanketed on one side only, crystal-white creating contrast, highlighting their twisting shapes, calling out their identity…
Post Number 91 Over many years of trial and error (actually more a case of trial, error, another error, a bit more trial, error etcetera) I have learnt that I work best in short sprints, with a brief break between,…
I need to remind myself that not every post on here need be one of my Thirty-Nine Steps. Although I am well aware of the fact that, assuming I publish one of these every week, I am nearing the point…
I suspect I am not alone this week in sitting down, tapping away and somehow channelling frayed emotion into words. I had no intention of commenting on the result of the EU referendum. I had been tempted before the vote,…
