brambles and crows

rusted brambles, the red spots like unripe berries on decaying leaves

white flowers still – all life stages working together in the same season – wine red stems, glossy greens, fading lemon yellow and pale greens

vigorous arching stems rooting across the field and encircling

rooks circling from the willow tree and the poplar, calling out

thorns catch in my hair and the hem of my skirt

the percussion of rain

wind and rain all night and day

As I slide and glide on the muddy path the yellows are sharp in the gloom

Like tiny lanterns they shimmer with energy

No birdsong, only the percussion of rain on my hood, rhythmic and punctuated by the yellow leaves guiding my way

Home the sky turns from charcoal to pinks and then mauve

The coppers and reds glow as though lit in a theatre, then the sunset is over as swiftly as it began

A solitary blackbird pecks for insects and worms in the beech leaves tucked under the eaves

Inside, as I peel off wet clothing and prepare a cup of tea with thankfulness, my eyes fill with tears for all those who are homeless

shifting season and song

a shifting, a letting go with beauty

the deepening rust, orange, browns, yellows turning to gold and sharp greens mottled with lemon yellows

So much birdsong – I think about how conscious I am of the amount and texture of song and as I watch the colours of leaves and spindle berries and am still, the birds come closer in the hedgerows and, just sometimes, I can match the song to the feathered one

later in the day..

the same steps, same paths but later in the day…

the sun catches leaves, berries, seedheads and brings them into my attention in a fresh perspective

the tips of berries darkening brown, glossy ivy bluish green, the colours I warm to inside, I will later feel drawn to record even when not perfectly matched

what colours do my eyes slide away from?

and then, just above eye height, a bramble branch lit up by the afternoon sun. A visceral lightening of my vision and spirit, and my breath deepens and my walking grows stronger

naming colours

the subtlety of blending, tones, mixing, layering – how do we find names for what we see and experience?

The colours I see are in my mind – trust that – try not to over-think

The images are to trigger the memories

I have literature I could search, I have names for colours I could make up, but for now I wish to follow the experience of seeing colour, looking and observing more closely and deeply and then making quick references

the first frost

and a blanket of mist over the valley. Soft with tinges of colour where is starts to dissolve in the sunshine

Frost bordering edges – how the white contrasts and highlights elements

Lines of colour and the restfulness of neutrals

Greens of grasses rhythmically balanced with bleached neutral tones as the grasses die back

Starting to think of peerie patterns in blocks of 3