The Tay.

Sky sketch on the banks of the Tay.

Low tide on the Tay, silvery in the short north light. Flocks of oystercatchers clack their way across the sand where nubs of salmon netting posts indent these flats up and down the river. A search for agates on the foreshore and although none found, I stumble across what looks like a large WW2 unexploded artillery shell. The police are down taking a look. Just as well I didn’t pick it up as I am wont to do. Unexpected and interesting.

Moine Mhor

The Great Moor is glowing, like a breath igniting embers of a fire. The climb onto Dunadd, ancient coronation rock of Scottish Kings. French horns proclaim the arrival of the geese. Ogham text speaks down through the ages, now gone with the wind and the wild boar.

Acrylic, charcoal and watercolour crayon on plywood – 122 x 95 cm.

Badgers Wood.

A day of frustration in the studio, of getting it wrong. So, a walk to Badgers Wood. Shadows ink the north edge of beech trees that mark the boundary. Embroidered moss tucks its feet in around their roots. Holding out a hand to the horizon I can rest the sun in my palm, mine for a moment in all the world. The shrike of sharp bird song, an old man and his dog with a few words on the weather at days end. A bumblebee forages on the slim pickings of gorse flowers as the sun sinks lower, cooling the air and the day exhales.

A view on the A9.

At a lay-by a man in his car, outstretched arms draped over the steering wheel, tired, troubled or both. A shaft of sunlight catches the high wire cables slung between giant pylons, disappearing over velvet caped hills.

Boarhills, Fife.

A blonde fields end meets a mute slate sky. Autumn, the turn. Scarlet hips, russet leaves caught in an eddy as the slow burn meanders to the sea. Brackish water, geese and eider, fossilised water etched on rock all caught in a long look this afternoon.