Thursday, 4 June 2015
the first wild roses
maybe it's the gentle arrival of summer, or perhaps I am just an old romantic.... though I like to add a few touches of dark in the light, a little edge to the romantic, if possible.... When I think of summer's past I find myself escaping into stories and gardens. I think of lost hours sat under trees pretending to read, or days spent planning imaginary flower borders. But enough of my rose-tinted thinking out loud.....
sheltering from the sun - the light and shade.... in miniature stitches. This piece reminds me of my grandmother and how she could never go out in bright sunshine because she was so very fair-skinned (though dark haired) and how her eyes would water in the sun.
Meanwhile, I have started to post new poems for summer over at my notebook nevering.http://neveringpoetry.blogspot.co.uk These are experimental 'scratchy' notes toward something like a sequence. Still very much in-progress, but you are welcome to read.