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

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.

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 -