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winter light

Posted jane -->on 20th Dec 2017

there is a compensation for the shortness of days and the lessening of light in December.

it’s the softness and warmth of the light around dusk

which enfolds the countryside in a magical cocoon of pinkish glamour

taking Bimba for a short second walk at this time of day

especially in the green lane

or Clip street where the outlook is over towards the sea

the light and the sky always a reward.

or on frosty mornings, when the light twinkles sequins in the leaves

outlines sculptural shapes

like jewellery

and we stand and gawp at the magnificence.

or we listen for geese

it’s been Brent geese this week, inland from their usual coastal marsh haunts for easier pickings on the winter wheat in the cold

and they did get a few days peace on this field

until their presence was noted and a bird scarer installed – a huge bang with a big puff of smoke, and they were up and away … now the weather has warmed up so I hope they are back on the saltmarshes.

one sunny but cold morning we explored parts of Bullfer grove I’d not bothered with before.

a path around the far side was rather inviting

amongst fallen leaves which the evening before had glowed copper

still bright in daylight

the low sun picks out the hedges and trees

and bracken in a slow fire.

this morning it’s much milder, and gloomier

in the soft grey light. I have to think about three large paintings looking towards the coast at Cley, at Cley 18 for which I’ve been selected to make good my proposal …..

though I have a few more of these still life paintings to work on.

 

november is the real autumn

Posted jane -->on 19th Nov 2017

harvested sugarbeet fields bring extraordinary numbers of geese inland; skeins of calling pinkfoot are the most heart-lifting sight and sound of autumn and winter in norfolk, adding to the dominance of our skies as the trees lose their leaves.

it is a slow process, continuing through november

field maples in the hedge hold onto leaves that are bright yellows freckled with copper and red for six to eight weeks

hazel leaves suddenly seem enormous, saucer-sized

mellow yellow with caramel burnt edges and veins

plenty on the ground too, fringed with water crystals in the slight morning frosts

in the sunshine that goes with the frosty mornings warm light incandesces maple leaves

I found the secret beech groves in the wood again

the spring-fed pools in the wood are empty, we have had a dry summer and autumn

despite that there is lush growth in parts of the green lane which necessitates the wearing of wellies. I have not had a single pair of walking boots which will withstand the soaking for long.

bare ash trees make long shadows in the low sun

my spanish hound burns energy into heat, I don’t think she needs a coat unless it’s really miserable out, indoors she is a very efficient hot water bottle.

I expect to see this oak hold onto its leaves well into december, every year it’s the same.

painting leaf colour

I have moved to indoor subjects –

they glow in the window light

inspiring another series now the dahlias are finished

the pink undercoat was such a useful discovery I have continued to use it

once all these leaves are gone I will have to go back to the sky and the bare branches

but for now these are very satisfying

though I am still finding subjects to come back to

wild colours

old viewpoints and new directions

 

full-on colour

Posted jane -->on 5th Nov 2017

autumn afternoon walks mean that I often catch marvellously coloured skies

colours are warmer, glowier

burning brighter

inspiring new paintings

plants show up surprisingly against a still green backcloth

the dahlias are still volcanic in Paul’s garden

joining the golden late sunshine

keeping our mental toes warm

I hope there’s not a frost tonight or it will all be over

I have had them indoors

and been painting them

against the window light. the rosehips and the turquoise ocean bowl by my friend Jan Lewin Cadogan act as counterpoint

although the pots in this composition also engage me

it’s the flowers that are centre stage. getting the acrylic paint to create the burn, the red light.

the pink undercoat helps to make that glow.

I just picked some more – another painting to do ….

and so ….. another small canvas 12 x 12 inches (30 cm)

now I feel a bit addicted to painting dahlias …..

 

tide just on the turn

Posted jane -->on 23rd Oct 2017

 

an earlyish trip to Wells beach, since it’s half term I knew it was going to be busy.

but with a chilly start there were very few on the beach at 9.30

Bimba still hates the car trip, and I realise I must put more effort into “practising” – the best thing is to pop her on the back seat on our way out to a local walk and sit with her for a few minutes. this helped before, but she’s gone backwards since I stopped doing it.

she loves the beach

especially when we get to the softer wet bits with no stones

then she really lets go

if she can splash a bit so much the better

as the tide was only just down from high there wasn’t so much room as at low tide

but once we got into Holkham bay there was plenty of wide space for her to really express herself

until she was pretty puffed out

she lies down when that happens but not for long

the waves a bit rough after the weekend’s wind

then we got into the dunes

or rather she got into the dunes

then I scrambled up to find her

and we walked back along the edge of the dunes under the woods. once there started to be dogs coming in our direction I put her on the lead and we got into the woods to avoid cross dogs, barking dogs, and clusters of children zooming about. the children are generally not a problem though, but dog fights are!

I took her inside the cafe, but not before some 5 year-old boy had zoomed up behind her with a loud bellow. I did just say that’s a bad idea to him and his dad …. she was pretty stressed out in the cafe, I got her half on my lap – but not as much as she would have been outside with all the tables occupied by dogs and owners

on the whole a successful trip!

saves the garden a couple of rounds of racing and digging too ….

ploughshares

Posted jane -->on 20th Oct 2017

October pushes us on into autumn

more trees are turning, gold and the odd touch of russet red

even a wet grey day has its pleasures

fallen leaves glow

reflect light upwards

wet always makes bracken fronds more colourful

and grey old stalks in the hedgerow stand out as skeletal sculptures

quite a busy time for farmers, a new growing season, winter wheat, autumn barley, rape is up and flourishing, and it is sugar beet harvesting season

I found the so empty field being ploughed and cultivated on Monday

the cultivator is pulled along behind the plough, detached at the end of the row

and cleverly caught up again as the tractor returns to the furrow, leaning into the deep edge.

a great subject to attempt

the shape of the coulters, blades or what-have-yous so flower-like as they are tipped up, steel polished by earth and red paint flashing like teeth, or flower petals

a complex painting

tussling with proportion and perspective,

painterliness and colour

in the end had to stop myself fiddling with it. now I’m looking for a simpler subject for the next one

painting poles again now it’s autumn

Posted jane -->on 11th Oct 2017

back into painting my local landscape, autumn makes it much more interesting

crab apples from a tree at the edge of the wood

our walks are enlivened somewhat uncomfortably by all the pheasants – Bims gets far too excited. I am hoping to train her to ignore them – some hope!

a few leaves are on the ground, but on the whole leaves are still green – it won’t be until well into November that we see real colour changes

warm light

wild skies

early evenings

inspire charcoal drawings

the rooks are back, crowding on the electricity and telephone wires that criss-cross these fields

inspiring a couple of paintings. this one is of a field that has an open view out to the coast, towards Cley and Blakeney.

another field has two sets of lines, and some lovely old barns

the charcoal preparatory drawing set me up

somehow the first attempt didn’t cut it, I had to go out during the afternoon, and also I tried to paint with it flat on the table.

after a week of looking at it in disgust, I went over it with a transparent-ish pale grey, to knock out the poles and the field edge and the sky

working back into it, I felt I had more of the spirit of the drawing

and a photo

stages

almost there

I’m working with broad brush and palette knife

and felt far more confident

putting less down

for a looser painting

one more charcoal. I have some small boards that may go to work out some of these.

 

 

silver Y and other mark-making

Posted jane -->on 3rd Sep 2017

I found this beautiful silver Y moth dead on my table the other morning

it ought to be an inspiration for painting as well as ash glazes, wood-firing, and printing leaves on fabric, all those subtle tones and colours.

in fact I have been quietly making some bottles,

reclaiming all the bits and bobs of clay that have been maturing under my worktable

imprinting

marking

impressing

carving out

 

stamping, stitching,

joining,

a series of tall bottles that a friend calls

soldier bottles.

perhaps that should be shouldered bottles

they have a kind of military bearing

after I have whacked the tops into these rounded

smooth corners

and inserted the neck, combing over the join

which catches glaze and oxide in the final firing.

they are evolving into a continuation

of this series, inspired by watching African women potters decorate their big spherical containers with wristy deft finger movements.

so I shall be looking amongst my glaze bins for various colours and textures as well as the cool grey blue chun.

as for cool, summer is turning into autumn

the landscape is becoming more linear again

some leaves are already turning

turning my thoughts to scratching lines through thick paint.

as long as I can still walk these woods and fields, never mind the shooting towers and soon the young pheasants

which turn this scamp into an elastic bundle of claws, paws, muscles and head full of prey drive.

 

the danish camp

Posted jane -->on 25th Aug 2017

is what the locals called the iron age earthworks at Warham, nowadays it mostly goes under Warham Camp

you walk up the back lane to Wighton – we cut the corner off and went through the churchyard – one of the two in Warham, All Saints. the church is closed for renovation at the moment, an interesting mishmash of building styles and re-builds, and its tower collapsed a very long time ago by the look of it

we crossed the river Stiffkey, one of our treasured north Norfolk chalk streams

water clear as a bell

by a pretty little bridge with curved walls

and up the top of the road to the track.

the earthworks or fort – though the actual purpose of the site is not really understood – are huge, double ramparts with ditches, dug in the chalk, so the whole thing would have glittered white in the sun when it was new. the information board says it was built around 200BC and used until 100 AD with the remains of Roman building – tiles and so on, in the enclosure.

the river once curved around, cradling the circle of the fort, providing an extra barrier, but probably also providing summer pasture for cattle and horses. the enclosure-mad landowners of the eighteenth century straightened the Stiffkey, cutting off a slice of the ramparts in the process, while draining the wetland around it for agricultural use.

for us, apart from the glamour and resonance of the history of the place – wild celtic tribes, warrior queens, heroic charioteers, golden torc hoards and all the rest – the plants and insects here are quite special.

the chalk ramparts are a wonderful habitat for various orchids and butterflies

there are chalk hill blues, and common blues flitting about

autumn gentian is very common here – a plant I’d never seen before – amongst birds eye trefoil and ladies bedstraw –

the orchids are over in late summer, but I found seedheads of common spotted.

colonies of stemless thistle like the south facing slopes

clumps of mignonette

harebells all over the mounds, scabious and devil’s bit scabious,

meadow flowers in the thin grasses looking like medieval tapestry

self-heal

wild angelica

the area inside the rings of banks and ditches is covered in thistles and nettles – thistledown blowing across and catching on everything

and the surrounding hedges full of hips and haws

a holme oak, very old, stands inside the enclosure

probably seeded by a bird carrying an acorn from the trees in Warham’s churchyards. from the camp you can see two church towers, St Mary’s Warham and All Saints Wighton

next year I will be visiting in early summer, to catch those orchids in flower.

 

 

silver-washed summer

Posted jane -->on 6th Aug 2017

I’m in a state of high excitement at  my discovery around the fringes of Bale wood.

here about eight years ago this wet corner of a field was sown with a conservation mixture to encourage birds and insects. since then it has been almost untouched, with a changing population of wild flowers including thistle and ragwort.

it used to be cultivated, with a very wet fringe along the edge of a section of the wood which is really an overgrown watermeadow. A complete neolithic axehead was found here, perhaps a deposit as an offering to the place.

now agrimony and fleabane grow alongside knapweed (hardheads) and woundwort,

providing a rich diet for insects

the fleabane – yellow daisy-type of flower – is a resistant plant that pops up in many places alongside the wetland of this tiny valley which eventually feeds into the Stiffkey, one of our North Norfolk chalk streams.

I’ve never seen a fritillary before, so imagine my surprise to find one, at first on the brambley hedge on the other side of the green lane, then in this watermeadow-woodland environment

such a handsome butterfly, the male with streaks and spots

the female an eye-catching spotted pattern rather like leopard-print, and the hairs on her thorax an iridescent green.

some of them rather beaten up, perhaps by the windy weather we’ve had this week.

this morning I counted at least fifteen

along the edge of the wood where there are thistles as well as in the fleabane and knapweed

 

and on the cut grass around the edge. these silver-washed fritillaries need woodland and open flowery rides, the woodland must have common dog violet, which the caterpillars feed on, and open leaf litter; the eggs are laid on tree trunks, in the bark (smooth barked trees are no good), the larva hatch out in a few weeks, and then enter hibernation, only waking to feed in the spring. you can read about them in more detail here

it seems to be a good year for butterflies, despite the cold spring. I have read that they may need a colder winter to reproduce successfully.

there are plenty of red admiral around,

 

speckled woods,

and I found this very smart comma feeding alongside the fritillaries,

with a painted lady.

turn around from the rich habitat of the wood and the weedlands, and you have successful monoculture, all trace of weed, disease and insect and birdlife gone or invisible.

my beautiful spanish dog enjoys all the views,

the little vixen that crossed our path here the other morning,

the muntjacs in Cakes lane,

and hares that cross our path, willy-nilly.

she was very patient with my butterfly observing this morning; week by week she grows calmer.

(also I think I saw a small pearl-bordered fritillary, much rarer …)

added August 24th – I have now logged this find with the Norfolk Wildlife Trust, Norfolk Biodiversity Information Service, and Butterfly Conservation. this last organisation tells me that the nearest silver-washed fritillaries are at Bretts Wood, Thursford, which is not very far away as the butterfly flies. I hope that they will spread to other woods nearby.

field light

Posted jane -->on 25th Jul 2017

Field Light – a walk through five fields

butterfly light

at the top of the flint-walled ivy tunnel into a bright dry hay field, bramble hedges sop up the summer sun, the gate kept, guardian wings flicker orange brown.

sea and lagoon light

through the kissing gate a field of strong sugar-beet plants – dark green, juicy leaves, not needing hand-singling with a hoe, along the path

scarlet pimpernel, common fumitory,

field poppy, bugloss, wild radish, toadflax, bindweed,

hedge of tall alexanders with umbels of tarry seeds, sand spurrey, the ivy-grown brick bunker above, rusting dock spires, redshank, mallow, bird’s eye speedwell, knot grass,

procumbent pearlwort, knapweed, toadflax, cat’s ear, mayweed, mugwort, agrimony.

barley light

steep blackthorn hollow-way, loose stones on the path, tread carefully and take the left fork, birds calling in the tangle could be willow warblers,

soft and silky reflecting spring barley, a little green still in the stalks shimmering like velvet,

tramlines double stitched, the path swoops down through the middle of the crop,

flattened by last week’s thunderstorms, rises again into the wind,

its dogleg white blonde, rustling silk skirts, blue-white flints embedded in the chalky soil, each beaded barley head tight plaited, crab boat dances in the white tops, a plane rumbles its propellors, lark not so high.

chamomile light

an arch of hawthorn in the hedge,

in the deep ploughed furrow beside the grassy path sunspurge, pink and white convolvulus, white wild radish, wild oats tall and ticklish,

on the bank alexanders, no leaves – dying stem and umbel architecture, dark red docks, tractor below mowing grass on the marsh, small fields, high tree hedges, autumn barley dry and ripe, heads folded down on thin stalks.

corn marigold and poppy light

burdocks a dark furry entrance,

looking across towards Walsey Hill and Cley saltmarsh dotted with galloways,

small and wilted sugar-beet full of marigold,

poppy,

bugloss, overlooked by dour and dark heathlands higher up, a brooding skyline,

turn round,

flower-strewn barley and blue sea at the top,

four larks rise up.

 

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