Mist rolls down from the hills. A slate grey pine stands out in front of the ghosts of other trees.

bricks caught in the slanting sunlight. uncountable shades of colour. glissando from umber to orange.

On the drive home...

it is autumn and the hedges are on fire
yellow ash leaves dance on the road in the wake of a rattling truck
a mottled grouse furrows a path through the sky

The boy kitten lies on top of his sister. They fit together like a round peg in a round hole. He holds her ear in his mouth.

a watercolour cloud - puce and slate grey

My sympathetic nervous system: A wave of hot blood rises through my face. A blush and my heart races. A bead of sweat - I have forgotten your name.

The after-rain smell of ozone, and warm damp earth.

A hoard of fat daises spring up from the horse cropped grass.

Dusk

It's a long way to space. The sky darkens on the horizon, and the evening star wakes up.

Fat candle

A pool of wet wax around the wick. A softening of edges. It all grows hard and cool.

Bramble wraps around a young conifer hedge. Weave and weft. And oh - the rain.

the pie-bald kitten pats my hand with suede-soft plantar pads

Early morning drive

An almost cliched dawn. Blush and bright lavender clouds. The glare of sun on metalled roads.

Saturday morning

-the rain comes in rattling waves -

Seen at noon.

Against pristine white clouds, the silhouette of a red kite, with wing-tips like splayed fingers.

the beginning of autumn

Like a small green coconut, the horse-chestnut on the side of the road whose body has been worn smooth.

...looking for places to eat

There is nothing more English than enjoying a fried Fish and Chips, which was originated in United Kingdom in1858 #found

Tea

Like the green Ulva seaweed I saw in glass-clear rock pools last week, the freshly picked leaves of lemon balm swim in the hot water of our glass teapot.

in the highstreet

An old guy, with a shock of white hair, pushes a bull mastiff past me in a 1970s mothercare pushchair. The dog has one leg up over the handlebars and his head lolls to one side - just a hint of pink tongue showing. 

Two groundsmen prepare the cricket pitch. The first, with grey hair, whizzes around on a small red tractor. The second, with white hair and a string vest, paces slowly behind a heavy old petrol mower.

a money spider scuttles behind the clock in the shrine room

chores

There are rust spots along the edge of the needle. I rub them off with my thumbnail, as best I can, and hold my breath as I push the thread through its eye.

Get well soon...

Last night I dreamed a washed out photo of my brother. Light had escaped onto the film, like angels glowing around his face. In the photo he was ill, grey skinned in a grey Maclaren pushchair. This morning I found out he's in bed with the flu...

first light

dew like scattered diamonds on the imperial-purple petunias.

The wind turns the birch leaves over showing their slate-green backs. The tree's white bark is spotted with black, like a snow leopard hiding in the foliage. 

Sunday afternoon

the sun-dried grass, in our short cut lawn, feels like the scratchy hair on the pig I stroked this afternoon.

I breath in...

I breath in - bowls of pink champagne on the rosebush. 

PC repairs

My hands shaking, I try not to touch the sensitive copper parts of the DIMM. The copper flashes like gold in the sunlight.

the thumb print of God

 on the weathered bird feeder

 a spot of lichen

 bird shit

 the thumb print of God

she opens her arms to the sky
"so this is outside?"
this beautiful evening light, these beautiful slate grey clouds
edged with gold
this is outside