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.

Radiant sky and long-tailed tits: field notes from the garden 04.02.18

Early morning hours at the weekend have the capacity to be both beguiling and bewitching.  I have stood outside at 8am and experienced an entire hour accelerate in the blink of an eye; I have stood outside at 8am and felt the pulse of existence slowed to a state of stasis, where an entire world… Continue reading Radiant sky and long-tailed tits: field notes from the garden 04.02.18

Brown torrents and shooting bulbs: field notes from the garden 30.12.17

Five days have now elapsed since Christmas, and we seem to have reached peak ‘in-between-ness’.  The rhythm and pulse of life has become distorted; erratic, much like the swirling torrents of water beneath me in the stream. A day of rain, sleet and snow, in addition to the continuing meltwater from the moors, has turned… Continue reading Brown torrents and shooting bulbs: field notes from the garden 30.12.17

A lone woodpecker and horizontal rain: field notes from the garden 17.12.17

Cold, damp, dark and defeated: if autumn is a slow exhale, then the depths of December days like this are the death rattle. And yet, whilst the garden matter sinks ever deeper into a natural stasis, birdlife continues. The abundance of tits, finches, blackbirds, pigeons and sparrows in the garden only highlights their increasing reliance… Continue reading A lone woodpecker and horizontal rain: field notes from the garden 17.12.17

The vernacular of snow

The vernacular of winter sees people always talking about a 'blanket' of snow.  But blanket somehow feels clumsy, drowning and inaccurate. Snow 'dresses' the outside world in a way that punctuates and accentuates. A few photographs of the garden dressed in beautiful snow on this cold December day.

Nocturnal silhouettes and glinting ice: field notes from the garden, 09.12.17

A day filled with snow and the unadulterated joy of a 3-year-old has postponed my garden solitude to the evening, but a nocturnal reverie provides the joy of new experience and perspective. The snow sits static all around me, lending an increased luminescence to life outside in these evening hours.  The sky above me is… Continue reading Nocturnal silhouettes and glinting ice: field notes from the garden, 09.12.17