world within a world

He carves small, complete worlds in cool marble pillars. Pillars and arches of a fantasy place hidden in the stone.

Willow, willow

Nature’s abstraction

Willows weep

Barn doors

Manmade in perfect balance
Colours of the sea and rocks
Adrift in the landlocked farm

Dawn sunlight

A splash of sun
on willow
reverberates through the ripples

Octagon Ely

uplifting glory
brilliant light in ascending vault

Messing about

At Shiplake Lock, Thames

Tranquil Thames
quiet celebration of
our alloted span

Landscape in a wall

Seen from above, the fields
of lichen and stone
lead the imagination

In black and white
the lesser redpole
delicately made by a countryman
(thomas Bewick)

river of tears

once unleashed
they swell into a stream
a river
an ocean

gateway

shapes, shadows
a gateway to imagination

glimmers of light

clouds, solid grey today
mask the light
like my heart

feathers

feathers and stones
shells and twigs
mementos of wandering
absorption

my own river of stones

purpose

Industrious bees going about their sweet business

symbolism

purity
chastity
death
perfume
fleur de Lys
drops of Hera's milk

Heart lifter

words are superfluous
eyes take in the perfection
ears hear the bees in the blossom
nose smells delicious almond

ripples

the slender beak pierces the surface

concentric rings overlap

disturbing reflections

Luscious chestnut

bursting with promise
fresh and plump
sticky buds of the chestnut
abundance

painting skies

how to capture the transitory cloud?
with vigour and a light heart
and a loaded brush
or make it up

spring flavours

bright, low sun
daffodils and favourite pots
blue glass reflected
I know I will treasure this in the future

beautiful friend

may you not suffer
you don't deserve it.
wishes for good health seem futile now
but be peaceful and calm in your mind.
we are with you in spirit

therapy

utter mindfulness
silence, inks, bleach
making marks
meaning nothing

gratitude

take nothing for granted
icy perfection
wonders of buildings
air smells of ozone
subtle colours of winter

snow sounds

snow through glass
not a sound

no trains, no motorway

just the hiss of falling snow

negative spaces

from the spaces in between
objects emerge

far away family
perfect holiday on lakeside
aunt's cabin provides them peace
water
sailing
postcards bring joy to mothers of sons

delicious colour

painter covers the board with a rich light blue
covers it in emerald green
scrapes some away
adds reds and yellows and dark colours
scrapes away
leaving layers of sumptuous colour
scraped and scratched and hidden
and mouthwatering

Catching up

what sailor threw you overboard?
which seabed did you lie on to become encrusted?
soft green glass
what strong liquor did you hold?
I could hold you for ever and stroke your surface, smooth and rough.

pine cone

spiral
chestnut
tri lobal gronds between segments
it opens in the unnatural heat

(picked from ground at Sandford St Martin cricket ground)

harmony

hens companionably chatter
garden birds think it's spring
a small plane joins in - sound harmony

tiny stone

tangled wires

like my mind

Stones 6, 7, 8 of 16

By the end of today I will catch up with the blockage in my river and it will be gone. These three were written while we were 'netless'.

Monday 16 Jan - mindfully looking

A single leaf, probably holly, on the stone seat in the garden. Tiny petals of frost, like the seeds of my variegated honesty lie on one half in perfect, layered geometry. The edge of each frost petal is serrated. They have formed perfectly, as frost and snow will.

Another day - not sure when - mindfully listening

The hiss of the wind in the dry beech leaves. It is a friendly, chatty sound. They twitch and wriggle, then rest when the wind drops for a moment. Does it sounds like water over stones? They will stay there, making their presence felt until the new growth. How generous and what fine colour in the dull winter light.


 The joy of sunset

The sun bleeds into the coming night. Layers of colour stretch across the distant wolds. Mists are  rising in the valley. The bush establishes the foreground. We need that stability in the face of such awe.

Friday 13th's stone

Mindfully eating a kiwi fruit

Overripe, gold kiwi fruit - furry skin, green under brown. The stalk, crumpled in a symetrical circle. Remember, the fruit is a seed pod of an unknown (to me) flower. Tiny stamens just visible at the pinched end.
Dissected now - an inner circle of thousands of tiny black seeds, white star like fronds out towards the skin. Inside the ring of seeds is an ovular ring linking stalk and tip.

It smells of the sun, fresh life and good health. Scooping out a spoonful, rolling it round my mouth it feels smooth, soft, sharp, sweet. It slips down my throat easily.

A cluster of four stones

First stone


Windows weep. Moisture gathers at the bottom of panes. Small patches of clear glass show where the air seeps in through our old windows. The glorious blue sky and sun light the beech hedge stop me weeping in sympathy.







Second stone (no picture here - it is not pretty enough)
My bank statement glares at me, and evokes feelings of anger, worry and futility. A tiny fraction of a banker's bonus would put things right. I do silly things too, but don't get paid for it.

Third stone

En route for Aynho, a large dead tree is centre stage, backed by delicate mists and trees with hoar frost. A demanding presence, like a soliloquy in a Shakespearean tragedy.






Fourth stone
Unseasonal ladybird has come in to shelter from the weather. Flexes her wings under the 7 spots. Crawls over my hands preferring the warmth to the draughty floor.The tiny feet tickle me palm. But is she a she? Why do we always think of them as female?

A dam in my river

For the last couple of weeks we have been without broadband, due to thieves stealing copper wires. I still wrote, but for lots of reasons it has been hard. So today I am going to publish lots of little stones, mostly as a mindfulness exercise. I need that.

It feels as though there has been a blockage in the stream, and obstructions in my brain. So many things have gone wrong in that time, but today is for sunshine.

The picture is a river entering the harbour at Robin Hood's Bay, on the north-east coast.

Bristol blue

Sun through blue glass, Chartres Cathedral? No, but as lovely in its small way. It glows blue and reflects on the wall, distorted and paler. Its design is balanced and soothing. An Aegean blue, the one they use on doors, but from Bristol, where they still make glass by hand which shows in the reflection.

hints of spring

pairs of shivering catkins,
like green caterpillars
or new lambs' tails


dusty pollen drops onto the female red tufted bud

Venetian memories

Closely observing my photo of Venice years ago (March)
- quality of the wooden stakes showing the change in water level at base - limpid jade lagoon with terracotta and white of iconic buildings
- icy blue sky and 'bora', wind from the Dolomites

Remembering the early morning walk when this was taken. Magical time.

toasted

Holes like a sponge, ooze butter and Marmite. Crumpets - a winter treat. Memories of toasting on an open fire, as a child.

Britannia Yarmouth

Britannia Yarmouth painted under glass paperweight - a family treasure.
Was it a souvenir? 
How elegant the old jetty was.
Crinoline clad ladies saunter before it. 
Herrings and Nelson made Yarmouth great.

brush

Broad hog hair brush, pristine, unused

Afraid to expose to clumsy paint.

Begging to be used

It’s been so long

Hold me, use me, create.

Hope

Virginal heads droop, stoically ignoring the wind and cold. Hopegivers - snowdrops don't mind the weather.

cashew nut (unsalted)

Naked cashew turns up its tail
creamy, creased, tiny stalk
where are you from? how did you grow?
who picked you for my pleasure?

deluge

Torrential rain
     later 

the thatch drips on the path below, surprising startled passers by.

feather

slim, speckled brown feather
thin curved quill
now dead, for sport
then, picked for wedding joy

New Year's Day stone

Holly leaves are darkest green in front, and light green behind. The holly berries cluster in bunches like small grapes of carmine red, reflecting the waning light. Ivy berries black as juniper. No need to improve on these classic Christmas colours.