Category Archives: Bedfordshire
A local walk I like to think is my own.
How quiet is the forest.
Beside the brook, I hear cracking hogweed, like tiny castanets.
And rustling grasses looking like fairy tassles.
I see illuminating, floating gold dipped seed dust, filtered in ribbons between stately trees.
Scratching dry earth with a hawk’s feather, it feels worn like old leather.
How quiet is the forest.
Sketching in the garden: woodland in spring
The weather has been amazing the last couple of days, too hot for working in the Studio so I’ve been sitting outside at a little table sketching with watercolour was crayons, called I think Neocolour. They are quick to work with and I love blending the colours. I used the above reference from a walk in the countryside yesterday and imagined the feeling of walking into a magical Blue bell wood.
It was so exciting to see these early Bluebells in an ancient woodland.
Usually my poetry tends to be freeverse however in one of my notebooks I came across an example of a ‘Rectum refrain and decided to write my Early Blue bell poem using the Rectum refrain style.
So basically a poem written in the above style should have 10 lines. The first line contains one syllable only, the second 2 syllables and so on. However line 10 should contain a combination of lines 1-4 thus making 10 syllables. No rhyming!
It was a challenge. I hope I got it right! However producing a poem about the experience I had of that walk, coming across the wood and Hawthorn blossom and using my senses and imagination, was far more important to me. I hope you enjoy it.
Blue bells shake.
Chilly winds wake,
Woodland creatures hide.
Twigs, new shoots lime green, fresh.
Blossom pure, delicate, intense
Hawthorn spike in dark hollows shine
Glassy eyed rabbits shy waiting. Still.
Blue blue bells blue bells shake chilly -winds wake
Jingling in scented meadows
And musty dells; amongst
Salty springy mosses.
A distant lark flutters;
The ethereal song mingling
With chimes from the sacred
Warm wishes to all
It’s been a very strange year of many ups and downs and I apologise to everyone who follows me, likes my blog and enjoys reading my posts. I promise to make 2019 the year when I pen my poetry and get painting again. After one of our beloved Border collies died suddenly last year, the arrival of our Slate merle pup in early spring and Skye, our surviving blue merle having a Stroke, I wondered whether life would ever become calm again.
However, Storm is a year old now, pictured above, and has a lovely nature; she gets on really well with Skye and has helped Skye get over her Stroke by assisting with her physio!
We’ve had lovely holidays in North Norfolk walking along the Coastal path, across the salt marshes and on Holkham beach and I have enjoyed a few hours here and there to paint.
I hope you like my photos and my watercolour painting of the cheeky robin who visits my bird table every morning. I have designed a Christmas card, so he can be enjoyed by friends and family.
I wish you all a warm, peaceful and jolly Christmas and the best of luck for 2019!
Wild, windy walk
I am walking through the tree line avenues protected from roaring warning winds.
Brittle branches are torn away landing like arrows ripping into the land’s heart.
Leaves dive and dart, grasses like babbling streams.
Leaning into an old gnarled tree, I look high into the patterns made by silhouettes of leaves.
What will I dream of…
Lingering in a woodland on a sultry spring day
Please click on the link to read my poem inspired by my recent ramble.
I hope you enjoy my post. The weather has been warm so we’ve been exploring our woodland pathways. As ever, I am inspired so much by my walkhs in the surrounding countryside whilst enjoying the company of my dogs; sometimes joined by my husband and friends.
After the rain
After the rain, pink buds
Burst with delicate scents reminiscent
Of rhubarb, rose and lemon.
Stepping through the glade, entranced,
Serenaded by tiny pearly drips
Cascading from blossom lips
And freshly opened leaves.
Float into hollows, nooks
Aspen and willow,
Stark, dark: sinister
Whispering sharp wind
Holly and blackthorns
Creak under laden leaves
Dripping icy nature’s tea.
Flirty flurries settle on warm cheeks
And tiny beaks.
Woodland Wildlife seeks solace
From fizzing blizzards.
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