Abstract Landscape Painter. Rural Dweller. Lover of Modernist Art and Design.
Millie and I are out early, in order to avoid the oncoming rain. I’m aware of the increase in open flowers that have begun to decorate the verges and bases of the hedgerows – some paths have literally hundreds of cowslips along their edges. I see also patches of tiny, blue, forget-me-nots, newly emerged red campion, primroses, garlic mustard and still partially enclosed bluebells. There are dog violets too, and soon the sides of the lane and the field margins will be frothing with white cow parsley. And then there is Bellis Perennis, the “everlasting beauty”, the “eye of day” – it closes its petals at night and opens them every morning. A rather underrated, cheery little flower, in my opinion.
The trees are coming into leaf too. The views across the landscape are changing accordingly, as they put on their garments and take up more space. Gaps are closing and light is filtered through the tender green. The weeping willow, by the village hall, cascades down in a rush of pale, slender leaves. Together they are so dense and full of movement that it looks as if spray from a great wave is about to break over me. But there, in the centre of it all, sits a pigeon, perfectly still and eying me warily.
All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson