A winters tale.






Mixed media on paper –  140 x 60 cm.


January. Cold wind from the east. If the woods were a person they would be hungover this morning. Wary of light, the trees ache, moan. I clamber up the slope on one side of the gorge looking across to the other . A deer walks along the skyline. Behind me a hare stops for a moment, sniffs the air before scrambling to the top and the open field beyond. I put down the paper but the slope is too steep for the paint not to run straight off and worrying about toppling over myself I turn round placing the paper up the ways which means I have to turn round constantly to see the view. However I do now have in my sight a red squirrel which skips across the ground and up a beech tree, disappearing into a cleft in the tree leaving its bushy tail outside waving at me. Gunshots crack through the woods. The buzzard sails lazily overhead and a wren comes close for a look. The wind ruffles fallen leaves, I shiver.


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