high summer

a morning walk to avoid the heat, and it’s already very humid by ten thirty. the hedgerows are zones of  intense life; starting at the bottom, there are a lot of young rabbits, dodging back into their holes under the nettles, and mole hills erupting around them.


the hogweed is taller than me, and different varieties of grass compete, nodding grey-purple plumey heads fuzzing the air with pollen. bumble bees lurch from flower to flower, and butterflies skim past too quickly to be identified. yellowhammer and tit squeak and warble from the dense hedges, laced with honeysuckle and dog rose, white campion arching up to meet them.


through tall banks of umbellifers, red sorrel and ryegrasses, the barley field flows away in the breeze, bleached blonde except where shade and track leaves a green stain.


the wood is dark and mysterious; the thrush rules and his jazzy improvised song echoes from the interior.


it is cool and damp  amongst the trees, too dark for flowers, a refuge from the hot sun for deer and birds. leaving the thrush’s kingdom behind, in the heat only a crow caws from inside the wood.


a field of grass mixed with stray self-seeded wheat has the impressions of many bodies where the deer have lain in it overnight.

summer greens, high grasses, a humid sun, a lark singing above; this morning the shade of the green lane was very welcome.


walking back past a lovely old house, its garden walls a support for roses, like this beautiful bourbon, Madame Isaac Perriere.


down Sharrington road the trees are full of flowers;  the lime with its dangling balls like tiny green cherries, the sycamore and hornbeam hung with green paper lanterns in tiny multiples.


and the bracken is uncurling its last tiny fronds in a paroxysm of greenery, all hazy in the humidity and sunshine.


back in the workshop, one more piece to make to join this clan of lidded jars.


the lids are cut with a knife and the bevel of the cut keeps them snugly in place. the last one made, now a succession of chores must be done … ash sifted and glazes mixed, more clay reclaimed.


the veranda too bursts with flowering growth, I have to keep it cut back or the whole shed would submerge under it.



  1. Beautiful stuff, Jane! Looks like you saved one of the best shots for last, that’s some great composition.

    I’m sweltering here in Toronto and wouldn’t it be great if I could step out my door and see this?

  2. I can just imagine you going to work one day and trying to leave only to find those vines have taken you captive. Very pretty walk.


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