The Cry of a Gull - Cameos of Birdlife #6
I woke to the cry of a passing seagull - his call tossed about in the gusty wind - ‘flee, flee Jack, flee’. For a moment I am a child again, at the seaside, in Cornwall. Gulls calling all around. But here in the foothills of Snowdonia we are more used to hearing the throaty ‘kronk’‘kronk’ of Raven and the ‘mewling’ of Buzzard. Perhaps I was dreaming ...
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Distant Hills - Richard Jefferies Reimagined (#1)
Walking in the footsteps of Richard Jefferies ... “I was not more than eighteen when an inner and esoteric meaning began to come to me from all the visible universe, and indefinable aspirations filled me. I found them in the grass fields, under the trees, on the hill-tops, at sunrise, and in the night. There was a deeper meaning everywhere. The sun burned with it, the broad front of morning beamed with it; a deep feeling entered me while gazing at the sky in the azure noon, and in the star-lit evening —' The Story of my Heart’.”
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Painting in Words - I was once asked if I wrote from experience or from imagination - I replied both: my writing is inspired by nature, art, and memories of real events, times and places, coloured by imagination - vivid pictures painted in words - sometimes somewhat hesitantly expressed as ekphrastic prose, poems or as haiku ...
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