As evening falls and the day slowly ends, I often find myself reflecting on the events of the day. I mine these events for their gold, and also for their impurities. Contemplating in this way tends to prevent me from unconsciously skipping through my day.
It’s cold today. Winter will soon be here. Scenes of bleakness, but of immense beauty, like this, will soon dot our countryside.
I took my little dog for his walk this morning. The weather turned ominous and I just had to photograph this scene. It somehow symbolised for me nature alongside technology, and whether the two are able to live in harmony with one another.
The barley fields have been harvested. There comes a time in life when you begin to harvest your memories and live comfortably with the wheat and the chaff.
I was at Sissinghurst Gardens the other day. I was deeply touched by the sheer wonder of it all. I couldn’t help but think of the link between wonder and compassion, because that’s what I felt too, a wave of compassion for it all. No doubt, wonder and compassion are inextricably linked.
Calling for freedom, asserting freedom, fighting for freedom. Yet, when endless possibility unfolds, the inevitable retreat into false shelters and fear of the very thing we call for, assert and fight for.
Good to get back to a bit of sketching
Thomas Hardy walked here. Do some of these trees remember him? Did this ground feel the touch of the soles of his shoes, and did the stones hear his literary and poetic whisperings as he conjured up stories and poems? Do the leaves in their cyclical existence of life and death carry within themselves memories of his face in moments of creative struggle and insight? Thomas Hardy walked here and the Woods still remember.
Yesterday’s walk through the woods.
The room small and tight; its contents so familiar they no longer speak. Outside, the distance waits with outstretched arms and enticing whispers. It’s hard to say goodbye.