‘Small sunshine Troika vase. ( She waits for her chance to speak. )’ . Mixed media on canvas 76cmx76cm
Men in camouflage. Spades and wellies. Hunters of all things metal. ‘Anticipation’, one said, ‘An addiction’, said another. ‘I go to bed thinking about it…. That and sex…’ Banter, chat and then a dispersal across fields of pasture, of stubble, of tatties. Alone with their machine, beep, beep, beep, beeeeeep…..Dig.
Cleaning muddied,cloddy earth between fingers and thumb reveals a musket ball, Russian flax seals and ancient Roman beads. History, lottery, friendship, discovery, nails, ring pulls, viking jewellery and silver. All waiting.
Thankyou for a great morning spent in the company of the detectorists.
Wind at my back sitting just off the coastal path . Walkers pass by, cheery greetings. One shouts, ‘She is just so self centred’. I look up thinking she might mean me for a moment as it was delivered in my direction, and then I see her friend walking with her. I chuckle. There are times the island looks like a submarine or a great whale depending on the light and time of day. I put my sketch book in my duffel coat pocket along with all the other bits and bobs – train tickets, old tissues, little bits of worn down pencils, a wagon wheel wrapper, bits of string and head back watching out for stray golf balls whacking me on the head.
As I walk down the road cars hurtle past. Wind picking up, warm and giddy. I veer off into a small woodland of beech and sycamore and ferns.Leaning against a tree to draw I feel a thud, and another . Looking up, the treetops are swaying into each other. It surprises me to feel the tremor descend the trunk of the tree and down through my body to my feet. I draw a beech and let my eye follow the shape of the branches. My hand knows what to do.
Walking through the village I stopped to look at a garden full of dahlias. Bella asked if I would like some. As she cut them she told me the railway station had been just up the way – ‘Aye grand fae gettin’ tae Dundee’. The line closed just after the war.Her husband had been a farmer and her father a fisherman. The gate to her front garden had a fishing boat in the design. Her favourite colour of dahlia was pink, the same shade as her overcoat.