Closer to the end

This morning, walking early on the beach, moonlight on the water. Between the land and the sea, between the night and the day. And on the beach a log. But then the log began to move and the dogs watched and we stood, amazed. In the moonlight, daylight,  dawning, a seal.

Small pieces of magic are always welcome, especialy when it is wild magic.

Gray goose and gander

Waft your wings together

And carry the good king's daughter

Over the one strand river.

Hey Diddle Diddle The Cat and The Cart

Another morning of frost crisp and moonsetting. With the van iced up I walked with the dogs to the high hill top and over. On the other side all was hush. Not a breath of wind, and only distant calls of curlew and oystercatcher and ravens. We sat on the high rocks and watched the shadows shrink a little, thought  a lot, then home to finish colouring Hey Diddle Diddle.

 On the hill I found peace of mind in a swirl of thinking.

Big moon, little dog

Somehow the space above where I worked seemed like just the right place to put images that I found that I wanted to keep, and contract schedules that I mostly ignore.


 

I had a little nut tree......

..and nothing would it bare,

But a sliver nutmeg,

And a golden pear.

The King of Spain's daughter

Came to visit me,

All for the sake

Of my little nut tree.

I skipped over the water,

I skipped over the sea,

And all the birds in the air

Couldn't catch me.

 

Progress.

  

Yesterday, added a little to Beau Peep, walked on the land under beautiful light and faced once again the tyranny of the white page. Sometimes when there is a deadline to meet I feel a little as if I am on a production line.

Eventualy I started and settled and hope to get another started today so that when I get bored I can swap between paintings and still make progress.

 

One step closer.

One page closer to finishing. This one is Little Bo Peep, and through the book her story plays out over several pages.

 Baa Baa Black Sheep.

 Hark hark, the dogs do bark, and in the background Little Bo has lost her sheep.

 

 To market, to market, and in the background still looking for her sheep.

Boo Peep's flock consist of a Hebridean, a Welsh Half-breed, a Suffolk, a Wensleydale, a Jacob's sheep, a Gray Faced Dartmoor and a Black Welsh Mountain sheep. As usual, almost finished, but not quite.

Visitors.

Today, woodpecker, starlings, blackbird, wagtail, chaffinch, bluetits and dunnocks and robins, jackdaw, rook, thrushes and even snipe.

 

And Hannah on a warm perch.

 

A day of birds

No snow. The only white, the pure breasts and underwing of the flapwinged lapwing. But the light has been extrordinary today. In my studio I have painted, a picture for dreaming.

Birds, beasts and beach.

Yesterday, Christmas shopping in St Davids in the tiny bookshop on The Pebbles. I came out of the shop with more books than I would ever leave a huge Waterstones with including the beautiful George Orwell which would make the most excellent Christmas present for Nick Clegg, and The White Ravens by Owen Sheers published by an independent publisher called Seren.  Painted into the dark hours while the wind called around the house carrying the cries of the lapwings.

On the beach this morning:

A small scrap of a seal pup, born too late, now just a feast for crows.

Strange light reflected from heavy clouds that promise snow.

In the garden, chaffinch, sparrow, bluetit and great tit, starling and robin, jackdaw, thrush, blackbird, magpie, rook and dunnock. There have been goldcrests too and wren and goldfinch and bullfinch. But still no greenfinch.

Under my hat

If you stand on a hill at night and hold up a silver spoon then bats will circle around your hand, I am told.

When I was young one of my favorite nursery rhymes was:

Bat, bat, fly under my hat

And I'll give you a slice of bacon.

And when I bake, I'll bake you a cake,

If I'm not mistaken.

Between the lines it spoke of wildness, of the dark, of wishes.

The next one I hope to work on is:

Gray goose and gander,

Waft your wings together,

And carry the good king's daughter

Over the one strand river. 

If you stop and take the time to say the words out loud they taste really good in your ears as well as in your mouth. 

On the beach today, Tuesday.

Wonderful textures of light and water, bird flights, soft air, wave song.

On the way home, ponie by morning light.

Moving swiftly on: A swarm of bees in May

With lapwings.

Hark hark, the dogs do bark, 

The beggars are coming to town, 

Some in rags and some in tags,

And one on a velvet gown.

and

Daffy Down Dilly has come up to town,

In a Yellow Petticoat and a Green Gown.

Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep.....

To market, to market to buy a fat pig.

Home again, home again, jiggerty jig.

To market, to market to buy a fat hog.

Home again, home again, jiggerty jog.

and

Tom, he was a piper's son.

He learned to play when he was young.

But the only tune that he could play,

Was Over the Hills and Far Away.

In the background someone is looking for her sheep.

Outside, sheep and rain, inside, pigs and pipers....

...and cheetahs.

Over the hills and far away

On the beach today, light. The moon in the blue morning sky. Scattered broken kelp from undersea forest stroms, like the tangle hair of mermaids. A balancing happy dog.
In my head, pigs, pipes and Little Bo Peep, blue cats, blue hens, blue eggs.

 

Baa Baa Black Sheep and Little Bo Ho Peep.

Less than a week now until the book launch at Solva Woollen Mill and I have been happy, knitting and painting and watching for rainbows.