Tuesday, 6 August 2019
Where I go to find peace to write
I live on the edge of the land, like to walk to the top of the hill to write. It gives me time to gather thoughts, takes me away from phone, brings me peace of mind. And often stories arrive on the feathered backs of ravens.
Here, where the air is scented with heather, I searched for the scent of snow, and the textures of love, to accompany two of the paintings of women and bears in The Unwinding.
Back home my typewriter had been collecting words also. I love typing on this old fashioned machine, that once was my dad's. It focusses the mind, sharpens it. Makes me write words one letter at a time. So different from drawing them with a pen.
Ivy curled at my feet while I was writing and I wondered if I had time to paint Ivy, to be included in the book. He coat melded with the heather stalks. Sunshine on her fur warmed her. She's a good dog really, like a creature from a medieval painting.
Meanwhile ravens turned in teh sky, flying below us, sun on their backs.
Now, home in my cottage, it's time to gather up the weavings and wind them into the weft, and write and paint. And the sky is pearl pale, and the wind is rising.
And each flake of snow carries the scent of the air that it moves through, spinning its story from cloud to ground, unique in all things from pattern to pathway.
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