Standing alone on Bluebell hill, I watched the clouds go by, their shadows like smudges of ink gliding across the countryside. A thought came to mind – do these shadows at some mysterious level leave behind their tracks in the landscape, or do they simply, without a trace, dissolve with their twin in the sky?
Yesterday I was engrossed in watching the shadow of a cloud slowly move across the slope of a small hill. It was a moment of sheer beauty. It got me thinking of the landscape and the intimate relationship it shares with light.
It has this wonderful gift of being able to receive the light into itself and to immediately begin to shape it in diverse textures of shadow and colour according to all the nooks and crannies and angles of the terrain. It’s as if the landscape becomes an artist using light as the paint to produce a portrait of itself. I’ve often seen what I can only call breathtaking creations flowing out of this sacred and intimate relationship.