Jane Wheeler's Blog - Just another WordPress weblog

clearing the sheds

Posted jane -->on 25th Aug 2020

goes on for ever, inner circles of dirt/slip and glaze splash/limewash crumble/cobweb. then one suddenly notices the filthy state of all the windows, never before thought of.

my veg garden is full of sunflowers this year. a very long time ago I grew sunflowers up here. they were a bit bigger that time.

then I had all these sheds pulled down and rebuilt. they were put up originally on the site of an old post mill which is documented by an auction notice from 1845 (on a website about Norfolk mills). the previous owners, the Hudsons, kept seven sows and their offspring, a pony and chickens in them. plus one of the sheds was especially for onions, equipped with shelves. they were fascinating, made with old doors and windows, bits of wood from Reg Hudson’s forestry job, and corrugated iron from when part of Stiffkey army camp was dismantled. a few bicycle chains helped to hold things together, plus an enormous number of nails. but they were leaking when I got them. I definitely bought the house because of the garden and sheds though.

charming as they were, the roofs had gone, and they were unusable in the winter.

this was the first to go, the old chicken shed. I got some nasty flea bites from the straw in there.

the long range of sheds were the last, except that the one on the end became my kiln shed and had some alterations before anything else was done, and basically was the inspiration for the rest.

the big studio was the next to be sorted out, with three panels of double glazing in the roof. I had a contact who worked for a hardwood conservatory company in Aylsham, and he retrieved several useful things which would have been skipped, like the huge doors which are a little twisted and let a bit of cold wind through when it’s from the East, and the roof lights. now I am giving up all this space I have been cleaning it out, and realising that it’s better to do a regular clean and not have a box of pigments lurking under your plan chest, entirely forgotten and the paper packaging eaten by mice. weirdly this shed suffers from house mice, whereas the house only gets visits from wood mice. the local vermin controller did a good job on them three years ago, but then left for Scotland. however, the first to die are always the voles, and if you are using poison it’s not good for our barn owls. Bimba found several almost dead voles in the garden.

on a happier note, going through the old stuff one always finds treasures, like this sketch book from my last year at Corsham.

after two storms the garden is not looking too wonderful, but I had a lovely second flowering from all the roses, and the dahlias are, as seen doing their thing. I don’t understand why the red ones I bought produce these purple flowers.

the wind is currently giving everything a good thrashing, so I am not sure my sunflowers will be upright now.

you can see photos of the long range of sheds being rebuilt in my blog here

 

 

high summer and low tide

Posted jane -->on 23rd Aug 2020

my last summer in Norfolk

this was high tide early in August when it came up high enough for a little paddling at Morston around the last bridge and some of the creeks. the blue reflections

of the early morning sky and the sea lavender were clear and gentle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the marsh like that before. but it is always different.

the week before I had taken Bims for hr first beach walk since March. lock down and ground-nesting birds had made it impossible and she hadn’t had an off lead walk at all. I had intended to try Holkham, but at 7.30 am there were four horse boxes parked there, so I drove past and we went to Burnham Overy, stopping before the Staithe to park on the corner and walk down the cattle drover track between the marshes. A good half-hour walk before the beach.

up and over the last dune, and there was nobody and the tide was well out.

she had a wonderful time. I was almost tempted to swim.

next week, on the hottest day, Lucy and I took a break from shed-clearing to have a swim and a picnic breakfast there.

the tide was in, and there were a few people around already

and a little spaniel for Bims to play with.

we swam – and it was cold. so long since I had been for a swim – not since our swallows and amazons day on Blakeney point in 2010 – and I found it hard to breathe in the cold water. but I am very glad I did.

Bims is not a swimmer, she’s about ok to get her belly wet, but that’s all. I made sure she got wet before we walked back, it was already hot, and when we got back to the car at 9.30 it registered 35C, much too hot for dogs. she faltered for the last 300 yards of the track, and was a little indisposed overnight. I discovered my car’s AC is not working.

by the end of the next day a sea fret had come down on North Norfolk, and we were spared the worst of the heat.

it wasn’t cold like the usual haar though, 20C. early morning walks made your hair damp.

Lucy went back to Scotland, the skip filled and a list made for freecycling and recycling and dump-tripping. I shall follow her when the sale of the house goes through.

spoon in june or something like that

Posted jane -->on 30th Jun 2020

and I have not even posted until oh dear it’s almost July …

there are so many beautiful flowers in the hedgerows now

I hardly need to write much in between the photos

we have been taking some longer extensions on our regular walks (we being the dog and I) through Sharrington towards Brinton and then turning down a tiny lane with the most enormous hedges

and semi-wild pasture behind the big thorn trees

then turning up past Hill Farm through Swan Lane, a lovely green lane, back to the road that leads down to Bullfer grove. it adds an extra mile, and even more excitement for Bims when a hare crosses our path.

all the green lanes have been cut, some twice, so they are not hard to walk.

I hope the hedge verges don’t get cut too many times

I have been painting a lot, a slight worry, since I will be moving this year and I am just creating more stuff to take with me.

perhaps I will sell some, you never know.

just continuing the puzzle of how to make paintings work.

the garden is full of wild flowers too, this is woundwort, used since the ancient Greeks to make a poultice and stem bleeding.

knapweed is a favourite for insects, this red tailed bumble was foraging over the whole clump

hard to get a good photo

yellow rattle helps to keep the grass from dominating as it’s parasitic. the seed-heads do rattle!

more greens than ever in my paintings

this is one where there’s so much texture built up by successive paintings that in the end

I can achieve a complex abstract evocation of landscape with a few thin coats of paint and expressive brush marks.

and then this is quite different. again, there is considerable build up, but then I have glued on some already painted paper torn into shapes and then blocked in the dark brown and the grey, leaving some of the last goings-on to show, and suddenly it’s a still-life, “lustre cups on a table”.

this complex abstract is the final of three attempts at my Pool in the Wood theme. it’s so easy to over do it and make them too fussy. I’m pleased with this now, but my ambition is to keep them simpler.

a large box canvas, 100 x 100 x 4 cm, over a yellow painting I did in April. the yellow really helps everything going on over the top. again, a pool, The Last Pool of Darkness, a theme in tribute to Tim Robinson (see previous blog post), that’s the title of one of his Connemara trilogy. but also I have to admit to a big influence from Idris Murphy, the Australian landscape painter, who often paints waterholes and dams. it does mean the sky part of the landscape can be in the middle, or at the bottom of the painting.

back to the lanes and the hedgerows, a couple of weeks ago the grass was in flower, with these extraordinary red/pink colours

colour often surprises me

these luminous dock leaves

and the rusts and oranges

they are very bright

similar colours, yesterday I saw the first silver-washed fritillary by the wood. he wasn’t very cooperative and I couldn’t get closer. the females are paler and more leopard-spotted. I haven’t seen them this early before, usually it’s late July.

these are marsh thistles, should be good food for butterflies

another of my walk extensions is to take the back lane from Bale to Hindringham, then through Hindringham to Moor lane and back across the fields to the wood, and Cakes lane.

the footpath across the fields runs alongside a ditch

and it is full of wild flowers

scabious and meadow sweet, St John’s-wort (Perforate), white bryony, bindweed …..

I’m not sure what this tall thing is, I will have to check again when those buds have opened more. some damp-loving thing – now I have taken the trouble to leaf through Simon Harrap’s very thorough and useful Wild Flowers, I’m pretty sure it’s a figwort. could be green, water or common. I’ll have to get in close and inspect it properly.

I’m quite surprised there are so many wild flowers in this narrow passage between a field of wheat and another of barley, especially as one is informed by a warning sign as one enters the wood, that these crops have been sprayed.

 

 

 

in May he’ll sing all day

Posted jane -->on 31st May 2020

or in May his song is true   – sadly I can’t tell as I’ve not heard a cuckoo at all this year. Last year I heard one at Holkham at least once a week, walking back from Lady Anne’s walk to the Wells car park on the landward side of the pine woods, and a neighbour has heard one passing through here. I’ve heard willow warblers a few times too, but not from the same spots, so I presume they too were passing through.

the lanes around the village are just beginning to get their summer clothes on

chervil instead of cow parsley

the bracken suddenly up  and filling previously grassy patches

alexanders fattening up seeds – they will turn black over the summer

white campion or bladder campion in the dry hedgerows

wild roses in the hedges, and creamy honeysuckle too but I forgot to take a photo –

a few poppies

plantains and knapweed

a photo of the lane from the cemetery to the village which really could have been taken any time in the last 150 years – if you take away the pole holding up the telephone and electricity lines.

we took the shady scramble along the edge of this big “prairie” field (it did have several hedges and was at least four smaller fields before the sixties) it was early and there was dew blueing the blades of grass, jewelled with buttercups and ground ivy

today the sea was a faint smudge – sometimes you can see the wind farms ten kilometres out

we saw a couple of hares, to B’s intense frustration

I never get the chance to attempt photographs, with her taking up both hands under these circumstances

the winter wheat starting to show ear spikes already, but along the edge of the wood here the deer have been nibbling it down and the ears are emerging through the shortened leaves/stems

bare patches along the edge too – is that where germination failed due to the wet winter, or did the deer eat it as it was germinating?

the soil structure is pretty poor here at the edge too, there was a lot of run off in the wet winter and the years before have seen potato cultivation with irrigation and then intensive crops and nothing put back into it. it’s like concrete now.

there’s still some cow parsley in the shade of Cake’s lane

or there was until this weekend, it’s just had a cut down this narrow part.

we walked another green lane last weekend, Swan lane in Sharrington

everywhere is pretty at this time of year

but the last week has seen things looking much drier. we haven’t had significant rain for about ten weeks, or even longer, since before lockdown, and higher sunshine hours than ever recorded.

I have planted so much in my vegetable patch it’s overflowing

here’s a new little space for extra broad beans

some more broad beans popped into tiny spaces. currently I am harvesting salad leaves, though I am plagued by something tunnelling in here which has ruined some of the new salad area and the seedlings are pushed around. I had to put the plastic tunnel over them to keep the birds off.

and lots of protection for the climbing beans

the roses are marvellous and very early

irises and peonies

in the wild part the guelder rose is very pretty

just now the oxe-eye daisies stand out

and the rambling rector rose is out-competing the dog rose to scramble up over the old plum and into the sycamore behind.

April come she will

Posted jane -->on 17th Apr 2020

and so she has with all her early flowers and leaves, which are two weeks early by my estimation.

we are so lucky here in the countryside that self-isolation means (for me) a closer look at where I walk – now voluntarily restricted to not going in the car to close places, but to the two very beautiful 3 mile-ish loops I can do from the house. and lucky that it is spring, and dry  weather with a lot of sunshine. of course my experience of the pandemic is incredibly privileged by my sex, age, financial standing, retired status and all the other things that have me here in North Norfolk in a quiet village with super-helpful neighbours. In fact as everyone is around all day, every day, and doing my shopping for me, I don’t feel at all lonely, and I have more time to write and paint.

wood anemones, not in a wood but in a bank of primroses in the lane below Bullfer Grove, whereas I have not seen any of these flowers so diagnostic of ancient woodland in the actual wood. I have managed to establish a little patch of them in my garden, under the hazel which I coppice (I just sawed off some young poles to support the runner beans).

Bullfer is locally famous for its bluebells which are certainly very early this year, and it is full of birds

there is a less obvious path that takes you to the full glory of the bluebells.

a path which seems to have been maintained better this year, around various fallen trees and bramble patches

a little scan of one part of the wood this morning, in the chilly east wind.

Bimba patiently follows me around, hopping over the fallen trunks. on the lead of course.

I made this little video clip on the 11th, of the very loud thrush in the wood, with wren accompaniment, and the wild cherry blossom which is lovely here but doesn’t last long. I always trot out A E Housman’s poem –

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

with its memes of youth and beauty and loss

there is just one early purple every year. last year I saw so many of these in Fife, in Scotland – in the dunes fringing Tentsmuir beach, even in my daughter’s lawn, and in the wilderness near her house, Lumbo den.

Bullfer grove, with its dog mercury and wild garlic  is maintained by its owners, the National trust, in a way that produces great habitat for wildlife. the neighbouring landowner, Albanwise Ltd, has more commercial priorities and has recently cut all the mature oaks on its local estates, including a few on the fringes of Bullfer. they won’t regenerate on their own, as oaks do not grow from acorns dropped/hidden by jays and squirrels under the canopy, they don’t get enough light, and are further inhibited by oak mildew which affects seedlings and saplings much more than fully grown trees.

in contrast Bale wood is untouched, and browsed by deer to the extent that there is no underwood to speak of. recently I prowled through this part, which is actually overgrown wet meadow, looking for a little patch of primroses amongst the hazels.

the floor of the wood is so curiously bare and dry, all dead leaves and sticks. on the edge there are a lot of small ash trees that are badly affected by die off.

deer paths everywhere. the next section is full of elm and ash. the elms get to a certain size and then attract the beetle that allows the fungus that stops them being able to transport water up the trunk and so they die. then regenerate by cloning. so the wood is full of fallen elm that is all smaller trunks and branches. it is quite honestly a mess. but from it in recent years, hatch the most wonderful butterflies – the silverwashed fritilliary. the caterpillars live on the leaves of dog violet, having hibernated in rough bark crevices over the winter.

and now the oaks are pushing out their leaves and flowers

ash flowers have been evident for a couple of weeks, but birds/ squirrels? something has been ripping them off.

at home the garden is full of wild flowers – the cow parsley is just out, and the cowslips are still looking good

a couple of weeks ago I found this unfamiliar shiny black bee whizzing around a patch of cowslips. I looked it up – a carpenter bee, solitary, just out of hibernation.

pear blossom out early as usual, I wonder whether any will get pollenated, it’s a very young tree, and there was no fruit last year, after a lot of blossom. it is Moonglow, a fireblight resistant variety. I may have moved to Scotland before I get a chance to find out what its fruit tastes like. or on the other hand, I probably won’t have, considering the future eighteen months or so of COVID-19 disruption.

I found this painting “Pink Garden” by Elisabeth Cummings, an Australian painter (for me mostly it is Ozzie painters I find most inspiring at the moment) and so I sat in the garden and tried to draw an impression of its burgeoning blossom and leaves.

pen and ink and then acrylic

here’s the bee

another  sheet

and now I’m finding working on paper quite a nice change from canvas

this is on fabriano paper, the lovely tough creamy paper I bought in a ten metre roll for making folded books. it does need stretching on a board with gummed tape, which is trickier than you’d think.

having such large pieces of paper means I can work as large as some of my recent canvases. this is 74 x 82 cm. I had to stretch it after I’d painted it (pencil, charcoal and acrylic) as I hadn’t taken it very seriously until I’d finished it. expensive to frame of course, mount and glass as well as frame. and decent glass which gives you accurate colour, is really expensive. it would probably cost twice what I’d ask for the painting. but there is that freedom from the surface you are potentially messing up not costing £ 40.

and the brush slides around nicely on the smooth paper

however I did invest in three Italian-made nice box canvases with deep sides 70 x 70 cm before the virus got hold. (now you can’t get them, I suppose the factory has been badly affected and Jacksons have no stock)

so I have a trio of landscape abstracts finished

all three have ink and paper collaged under the acrylic, and some oil pastel and charcoal drawing  … the top one is from the field at the top of the road with the view of the sea at Blakeney and on a bright day the wind farm masts poke up from beyond the horizon.

the one in the middle is the pond in the wood, and this last one the huge prairie field that my friend Henry Carter sold to Albanwise, which has winter wheat making a shallow triangle if you are standing at the top of it from the road, and spring barley just coming through as a green veil,

here a veil of paint.

 

the vernal equinox

Posted jane -->on 21st Mar 2020

two days ago this thrush was singing so loudly in my garden I heard him over the Sibelius the radio was playing, and rushed out of my studio to record him.

now we are self-distancing, and in my case, being ten days off seventy, self-isolating, I am spending more time enjoying the spring light, and some of the time sunshine, in my garden and studio, as I’m not off to art groups and writing workshops. I’m very happy at home at this time of the year, the cowslips and primroses are coming up in the garden

I’m not restricting my dog walking;

we have these beautiful violets in the lanes

especially Clip street

and overflowing clumps of primroses, both in Clip street and our moss-lined road, and of course in Cakes lane

the fields have dried out at last, enough for tractors to be ploughing and harrowing on every farm this morning

there is a second later flush of blackthorn blossom

and some oak trees have thickening buds

the chiffchaffs are back in Cakes too, and a yellowhammer in ensemble in this clip, though mostly minus his wheeeze at the end of the classic “a little bit of bread and no cheese” song.

the sun strong enough to compensate for the blast of cold easterly wind today when walking, but not if you are just standing around,

and dazzling in and out of tree shadow

the primroses are not so obvious in the bright light as they are on a grey day.

the pond in the wood is still quite full – I love the reflections of the oak trees that surround it. a strange and spooky scene  ….

we have been walking at Holkham twice a week too – I should say galloping in Bims’ case – finding the western side quieter

yesterday there were heavy showers scudding in from the east

making theatrical reflections on wet sand

luckily we weren’t caught out by them. it was a refreshing and energising walk

they are fencing off the areas where oystercatchers and gulls nest now

but there’s plenty of room for us to keep away

on the foreshore and the dunes. Bims is more settled once she’s let those powerful muscles and long legs do what they are meant to.

I had the usual battle with this painting (don’t you love the pink chair! from an app which puts your picture on the wall of various unfeasibly smart rooms)

I think I’m quite settled on it now (Hilly with branches, 76 cm x 60 cm). there is something  female and landscapey about it which is all to the good.

now I’m not dragging all the equipment off out two afternoons a week I feel more committed to the studio and have been having a tidy up today. see the crap on the floor under the table –

well now you don’t! a wheelbarrow full of ceramics detritus gone into the grey bin.

and some paintings up here instead of in the “gallery” (my old office)

I do love this little one, it was very quick  to do but it’s enough and I managed to keep my paws off it somehow. Paintings which have got to the paws off stage are all for sale, just email me from the link on the website www.janewheeler.co.uk – I will have to be more pro-active about selling online, now that Open Studios is cancelled.

 

working with pen and ink

Posted jane -->on 25th Feb 2020

this week instead of painting our own things at art group in the village hall we had a drawing workshop with Fionn Rawnsley who used to teach on the foundation course at Norwich Art School. this was actually really good. I have been lazy about drawing, especially since I started painting abstracts. Fionn used techniques to make us draw like poetry and work inside out

firstly to draw one’s face by feel. I took pen and ink because I’m awkward, but also because I love that medium. I fell in love with it the first time I saw illustrations by Charles Keeping as a child.

I still have all the books I treasured then

his style changed a bit, loosening up,

but the drama of them mixed with the kind of drawing, angular, expressionistic, yet tamed to fit around the page was irresistible.

the book design is exciting in itself, plus Sutcliff’s novels are far beyond much of her contemporaries’ writing for children.

so I am up for whatever can be got out of a pen nib and a bottle of ink.

I just had to replace the nib on this pen as yesterday I crossed it, trying to draw with my left hand

I was given this line ruling pen by a friend, on a mark-making course we both did a few years ago. we made folded aluminium pens and used frayed canes and various other found things. I don’t think I was ready for that course in fact.

if you swerve a pen around, using your wrist and elbow, you can get it to do some quite wild things.

tip it and let it judder over the paper

or if you tip the triangular pen, having dipped it too deep, the handle catches on the paper and you get a thick line as well

for these smudgy lines I used a chinese ink stick, dipped in spit (sorry), in my left hand, then swapped over.

this was the second exercise, to draw someone else and try to draw the details and contours inside the obvious outline, not relying on the outline, and trying not to look at the drawing too much …

then we applied these ideas to still life drawing – I brought three of my pots, some wiggly hazel twigs, and some dead hydrangea heads, and Victoria brought spring flowers and a very handsome earthenware jug.

three hours of concentrated drawing

my head was buzzing

I hope this gives me some new ways into my paintings

but drawing is worthwhile for its own sake

I think I will be trying to fit in a daily drawing now

 

more and more air and water

Posted jane -->on 23rd Feb 2020

and I’ve been even worse at keeping up this blog in the new year. still I have a stash of photos of more wet and watery so here we are.

just walking up the Sharrington road yesterday morning early with plenty of air blasting around my ears – and the clouds going at who knows how many miles per hour up there. the gusts down here were supposed to be around fifty three miles per hour; they felt pretty vicious, and it wasn’t even a named storm.

the soggy fields won’t absorb any more water so there’s plenty of this

and this

this

and this. some soaks away just a little – until the next rainstorm. however we don’t have big enough rivers in north Norfolk for flooding to be serious.

this morning the Glaven was looking twice as big as normal, after heavy rain in the early morning,

but here it has room to overflow into a wide valley of reed beds, sallows, sedges and rough grass which sops up much of the excess since dredging was stopped and raised banks got rid of.

several trees down; this is an alder

mayhem here in the river bed, with two more alders gone, one earlier in the year and one after Dennis. on Monday one had to duck under it but it’s been cleared up now.

but it makes the river gurgle and chuckle pleasantly, and the wren sings along. the cut alder wood is a bright orange-red. I wonder if it would dye fibre.

at the ford the level is very high. more wren song too.

but for most of it it seems the deeper it flows, the quieter.

up in the woods at Bayfield, the trees very dark and slick with rain, which had only just stopped as we got out of the car.

the sky clearing as the front swept on south east. the farrowing huts are all full again – the sows don’t seem to mind the weather – it’s quite exposed up here. in the distance you can see the woods that edge Holkham.

at home I’ve had a wonderful winter for snowdrops. they are almost over now, but this time last year they were brown with the sun and warm weather we had in February. this year it’s the wind that’s browned them I think.

wild daffodils were looking like this a week ago, they are fully out now. and all the nettles are coming up. some work is needed.

meanwhile Bims and I go to Holkham for her runs, where it’s quiet if we follow the horse entrance to the beach. there’s been a canine gastro-enteritis virus around, it’s really severe, with dogs needing veterinary care for several days, best avoided if possible. she doesn’t mind the light plastic basket muzzle at all. it means she can’t poke little dogs and make them squeak, and she can’t eat anything untoward which we know does sometimes fetch up on the beaches here – fish with paralytic shellfish poisoning, and palm-oil solids.

it’s more beautiful over on that side of the bay too

on Thursday the wind was ruffling the little waves.

and I found an asemic poem made by some lug worm ….

 

 

watery

Posted jane -->on 19th Dec 2019

weeks have slipped away and I have not managed a new blog post until now. perhaps this is because I have taken up my knitting again. it’s very slow, but I must do a bit every night if I can, the yarn was far too expensive (yak/merino/silk fingering) to leave in my previous fashion, perhaps only for the moths to enjoy.

it’s no news to anyone in the UK that we’ve been having a very wet autumn and now a wet winter too.

water is lying in puddles and ruts in fields and walking round the village involves wearing gaiters or wellies and dogs need a bath on their return, the lanes are full of mud.

on a day like today when the sky clears there is so much damp in the ground and in the air that my washing hung out on the line has more water in it at the end of the short day than it started with.

here’s the river Stiffkey on its way through the water meadows below Stiffkey village before it flows out through sluices at Stiffkey freshes, looking very full, about two feet higher than in August and September.

and today the Glaven, even fuller after yesterday’s rain, its surface pitted and burnished by the strong current.

it looks quite clear, unlike two or three days ago when it was definitely murky. these North Norfolk chalk streams should be as clear as crystal, but agricultural runoff can add silt and chemicals. they rise from chalk springs, from the aquifer that underlies the whole county, and from which our drinking water is pumped. it’s also used by farms to irrigate, especially potatoes, so it’s ironic to see a field of potatoes locally, unharvested, with water between the ridges, basically abandoned because it was too wet even two months ago to get them out of the ground.

on rainy days there is something magical about the drops hitting water and making circular ripples that widen and then disappear.

at Glandford the river narrows under the footbridge and then widens out into a deep wide pool that tractor men and others with large tyred vehicles love to cross in a wake of pebbles and froth.

a few weeks ago I came across this pickup sitting in the middle while its driver made a phone call, not stuck, just enjoying being in the middle of the river.

I’ve been filling a sketch book with these watery drawings. the khadi handmade cotton rag paper mops up the pools of water I brush across it, leaving tidemarks of watercolour. there’s something elemental about watercolour paint, the way it can imitate weather and light.

our writing outside group met in Edgefield this week to come to this place, Pond Hills, on a rainy day when the drops pattered down from the trees and the overflow of the pond gurgled happily down its sluice to join the Glaven.

you don’t see the water from the road, but have to climb up a bank covered with fallen chestnut leaves to stand and watch the raindrops opening their concentric ripples in an infinite pattern of widening circles that disappear into the silvery sheet of the pond’s surface.

on a still day the reflections are clear.

trees lower their tangles down to meet themselves

grey sky meets grey pond

and the mirror trees are perturbed by the ripple patterns.

larger drips from the trees make louder pops as they land on wet leaves

and submerged branches stick their rotting stubs up through the meniscus.

my new notebook for these sessions is a landscape-shaped hard-back sketch book. it offers a tempting space to draw as well as write.

fallen trunks crouch on the edge of the bank, limbs propping them like reptilian monsters. it seems as though we are in temperate rainforest, surrounded by otherworldy beings, as we wander between the feet of great trees in the misty rain. the sound of the rain and running water remind me of the soundtrack of Tarkovsky’s film Stalker, filmed in a wet spring in Estonia.

the other occupation that has side-tracked me is painting of course.

I’ve been making small abstract paintings on thick watercolour paper and small canvas-covered board

perhaps the watery weather has been influencing them

here there’s a saturnalian brushwork too.

 

 

the magic of a wet November morning

Posted jane -->on 11th Nov 2019

when you get ready for what you think will be an unpleasant cold wet and very muddy walk, haul on the waterproof over-trousers that impede your stride, lace on the boots that have hardly had a chance to dry out over the past few weeks, zip up the big hooded jacket and find your gloves, slide the dog into her waterproof fleece-lined coat and lock the door behind you, you may not anticipate the wonderful autumn spectacle that awaits

here is the muddy field

but as we turn into it, the source of the pinkfoot calls that we’ve heard all down the lane becomes apparent – here they all are, eating the potatoes that Walter has not been able to harvest because of the state of the ground. they fly up when they see us, but they don’t go far –  more are arriving all the time.

we walk along the edge of the wood, squelching – the bottom of this field is still sodden, despite the new land drains and the enlarged and cleared ditch. it is a place full of changes of subsoil – from sand to clay to chalk, to chalky clay – and full of little springs and pools in the wood. saying that though, the pools in the wood are still dry, in spite of over a month of rain.

here they come, in waves rather than skeins. since I came back to Norfolk almost twenty years ago, the geese have been a wonder to me, something to delight in every time I see and hear them – usually the other way around, you hear the calls and twirl around to see where they are in the sky.

they fly so fast, and i suppose the calls carry a long way, they call in more geese when they find a plentiful source of food. I haven’t seen any on locally harvested sugarbeet, which is where they do no damage, eating the leftovers. but I think Walter will be along with some bangers soon to get them off his potatoes. it looked like at least a thousand on there, and that’s at least a few thousand spuds with beaked chunks out of them.

the rain was pattering and the wind gusting but we just stood and watched in awe

and here is a soundscape  – another skein of geese, then two woodcock fly up, and the second one rockets off along the edge of the field, jinking and twisting into the distance. listen carefully and you’ll hear a roebuck barking alarm (or it could be a muntjac) the gusty hoarse sound echoing through the wood, a bird cheeps, the rain patters on my and Bims’ coats, and you can even hear the tinkle of her collar-tag.

more geese – they spot us and quieten a bit, and you can hear that eerie echoing deer bark again …

am I imagining it, or are the trees brighter this year?

the oranges seem more intense

in Cakes lane the leaves are falling fast

ashes have dropped most of them in the past few days

field maple leaves still bright on the hedge

the phone camera doesn’t see the same thing as me, my eyes exaggerate the brightness of rusty oranges and leave out the greens that the camera emphasises. this oak seemed all ginger when I walked past it.

the grey sky

and wet leaves make the bright colours luminous

and reflect yellow light back upwards

the bracken is always more intense when saturated

from copper and bronze

to amber yellows

ash leaves reduced to stringy stalks on the path, it’s like walking through straws

the trees are beginning to show their sculptural forms now, branches like dancers’ arms

we are lucky to have this green lane – if the farmers didn’t bring their slashing hedge-trimmers and grass cutters down it regularly, a few walkers would not be enough to keep it usable. so though it’s horrible to see it all smashed up in february, it grows again incredibly quickly.

more bracken colours – a fierce blaze in the wet lane.

the gusts bring leaves down, hard to spot in a photo

so here’s a clip of me trying to catch them with the phone camera.

 

 

 

« Previous Entries