Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

26 June

When I look out, shortly before dawn, there is layer of mist floating just above the earth.  A band of soft-focus, hovering between grass and sky.  Our little valley has become a sea, and the wood, an island.  The billowing green of two large oaks that pierce the grey, appear as the sails of galleons.

The sunrise brings bright light and saturated colour.  Millie and I go out earlier than usual, in order to avoid the heat and to walk whilst the hedges still afford some shade.  The paths where I once slipped and slid through mud, are dry and dusty.  They crumble underfoot.  There is a crunching sound as I walk. 

Other sounds – the jingle of Millie’s harness; the light tap of her little feet on the pale clay; the chirping of hedgerow birds and the song of a wren; the grasshoppers “zzzz-ing” and the deep “baaaaah” of distant sheep, interspersed with the higher-pitched “beh-he-heh” of maturing lambs.  They have stripped the pasture of every stem of clover.  They will soon be on the move.  But for now they cluster around the bowser, or gather beneath the trees for shade.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

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