Nothing comes from nothing. Maybe. But imagining a void or wiping whatever as clean as one wants it to be, is an invigorating action. Vigor. The sap rising and early pink or white blossom is like fluff on branches. The northern hemisphere is about to recreate and even...
Young man seated under a tree by Isaac Oliver The dreaded moment has come! Clocks have gone back. An extra hour of light in the morning when I am still sleeping while others are rising with the sun. It used to be said that the extra hour of morning light was to enable...
The season of blue skies and abundance of green is slowly drawing to a close. Walls, made of stones cleared from uplands to allow grass to grow, deter flocks of sheep and the occasional goat from straying off the upland slopes onto roads and farmland. Moss clings to...
Every year I bid farewell to summer by seeking a wide-open space. There I can let it go by flinging my farewell into any blue sky I can find, preferably from the top of a hill – there are no mountains in Yorkshire – as a plea for a good number of them to...
There is a touch of sadness in July at harvest time. A friend calls it the untidy season of petals shed like hopes. The scattered petals are untidy, to be brushed out of sight into a pile to be made into compost. School holidays are attuned to nature’s requirements....
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