Originally posted on March 9, 2019 @ 2:47 pm
As Summer Leaves Fall ....
The thing I notice most at the beginning of Autumn is that it is still dark when I get up in the mornings to let the dogs out. With mist over the meadows and dewy morns. Rowan berries aplenty; Blackberry too. Red hips and haws colour the hedges a rusty red. And Rosebay Willowherb their tall spikes lit by the evening sunshine, followed soon by clouds of gossamer-soft seeds, floating like fairies on the balmy wind: The end of summer.
Continue reading Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season) …. Autumn
Wandering alongside an autumn hedge all yellows, browns, reds, pinks and purples my eye was caught by a bright flash of orange-red ahead of me; a Redstart - its wings flapping in a blur; its tail fanning out - orange-red as it hovers and snatches at a fly. It lands on a fence post, standing upright, its tail shivering. An adult male. Then up it jumps again snatching at another passing insect and lands on a dead branch further along - it’s fiery tail and ‘tweet-tut’ fretting call teasing me on ...
Continue reading Along an Autumn Hedge
Roland Green (1890 – 1972) was one of Britain’s most accomplished wildlife artists from the 1920s onwards. Living on the Norfolk coast, in the reeds at the edge of Hickling Broad, he specialised in drawing and painting birds, both in in oils and watercolours, illustrating many books on the subject. He was a founder member of the Society of Wildlife Artists (SWLA), originally conceived by Robert Gillmor and Eric Ennion.
Continue reading Roland Green (1890 – 1972)
Gordon Beningfield (1936-98) - Another post in the series of short biographies about artists and writers inspired by Nature and the Countryside and whose works have fostered my own love of the Countryside – especially Birds.
Continue reading Artists Inspired by Nature – Gordon Beningfield
Originally posted on March 6, 2019 @ 10:05 pm
Carefully parting Willow, Bramble and bronzed Bracken fronds that rustled and crackled in the winter frost I could see my secret lake ... well large pond really - an old disused Flight Pond ... a few Mallard quacked and splashed noisily; a couple of Tufted Duck circled warily in the middle while on the far bank a pair of Teal rested, blending well with the pondside rushes ... a Coot called from somewhere in the reeds - well hidden - shatteringly loud ...
Continue reading Winter Snows