A few shots capturing the hues of change in a cold September garden.
Shades of September
Conkers, Fatherhood and a Speckled Wood
Over at Creative Countryside, we all subscribe to the notion of living more slowly and in harmony with the seasons. And perhaps nothing encapsulates this more than gathering conkers in the autumn. This past week has been heavy, grey and atmospheric. Leaden skies of slate grey have set in with a resolute stoicism matched only… Continue reading Conkers, Fatherhood and a Speckled Wood
The Silent Symphony of Rain
This is perhaps the first time in living memory that I have truly craved rain. I’m not talking about a half-hearted desire for precipitation, but an ardent anticipation for rainfall; something that has built slowly and steadily over the last few weeks. A genuine groundswell of feeling within, that something is amiss, not quite right:… Continue reading The Silent Symphony of Rain
Delicate declarations of Spring
To label it a 'riot' of colour would convey too proud a sentiment: the garden's delicate declarations of spring are quietly vocal, but no less a statement for their subtlety. Photos taken on Saturday 21st April 2018.
Falling twigs and golden light: field notes from the garden, 20-22.04.18
I sit at the end of the garden and bask in the early hours of the day, alive with a frenetic energy, yet simultaneously calming. The cool breeze is respite for the soul, as well as the body, and I embrace and enjoy the cool sensation of the early morning air across my arms and… Continue reading Falling twigs and golden light: field notes from the garden, 20-22.04.18
A charged dusk and beating bat’s wings: field notes from the garden 06.04.18
The April dusk is heavy with air, thick with atmosphere, and laden with thoughts. A storm is most certainly brewing, but that heady brew is charged with an electricity that lends magic both to the evening, and the soul. The changing of the clocks has bequeathed the gift of encroaching light to the evenings once… Continue reading A charged dusk and beating bat’s wings: field notes from the garden 06.04.18
A dropped veil and a February epiphany.
Today contained a period of very special moments: that rare occasion when the universe stitches a few hours together with a thread made from infinity herself; an afternoon where eyes could feast upon the unfathomable richness of the purest azure sky. Heaven and earth pulsed achingly close to one another, as Nature dropped one of… Continue reading A dropped veil and a February epiphany.
A dancing starling and buds of promise: field notes from the garden 18.02.18
There’s a new sense of life in the garden today; discernibly so. I had toyed with writing ‘perceptibly so’ but thought that ‘perception’ implied somewhat of an effort, or a concerted focus – and that would betray the ease in which nature is making itself visible, heard and felt on this February Sunday morning. Before… Continue reading A dancing starling and buds of promise: field notes from the garden 18.02.18
The Great British Seed Off
I challenge anyone to find something humbler, and yet containing more untold majesty, promise and beauty, than the unassuming seed packet. A rudimentary paper packaging, containing the tiniest of morsels, these kernels of truth are bursting to tell their story in full, technicolour glory. The fact that snowdrops, iris and crocus are now punctuating the… Continue reading The Great British Seed Off
Ovies aries: a written and visual homage to our humble sheep.
For the (very) amateur photographer, sheep make surprisingly good subjects. As I collated a few images to share here, I laboured over the words to accompany them. Yet I soon realised that sheep have been playing a significant role in my life for years. Born and bred in Sussex, I have spent veritable swathes of… Continue reading Ovies aries: a written and visual homage to our humble sheep.
