Today when I walked I found some cow's eggs, tangled tight and watered by fog. Rare ones, from the Welsh Black.
Back home I prepared a print that is going to America once it has been mounted.
Finally I began work on the last piece from The Cat and the Fiddle. And I wondered what it would feel like when it is finished. It has been a long haul.
The fair maid who on the first of May
Goes to the field at break of day
And washes in the dew of the hawthorne tree
Will ever more handsome be.