The trees have a heavy dark green velvet curtain feel to them, as if they are being pulled open and shut in the cool wind that blows in from the Tay. They are starting to reach the end of their fullness, too tired to keep their youthful hue . Cows daunder on the fields edge and behind, Normans Law, rising to such a view it is worth the climb – north, south, east, west – river, mountain, tree. An ancient history here sings the yellowhammer and wren while the yew trees in the churchyard shift their weight in response, a dance for what its worth, a memory of younger times.
dominique cameron RSW 
That is really beautiful writing Dominique and it has all made my day. Thank you.
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Thats good to hear Ian, so glad you enjoyed it ! Made my day too reading your comment 🙂
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Wonderful, we seem to follow the same paths. I’m often up Norman‘s law. Not Greece sadly.
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Mormans Law is such a fantastic wee hill 🙂
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Thanks for the exhibition book
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A magical place I’m sure one of these days I’ll bump into you I’m often in similar places.
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Yes, if you do see me drawing say hello 🙂 And thanks for the comments 🙂
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