stories and illustration

Gold Tree by River Tweed

agold tree

I thought this tree was so pretty, shining through the trunks and tracery of foreground trees on the steep slope down to the Tweed. There has been wind today, and it has grown colder and darker, so soon the trees will be almost bare; so I wanted to celebrate this lovely tree before it was stripped bare.

November 15, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Smoke, Fields, Fires in the Past

Smoke, Fields, River Tweed

I thought this smoke was mist over the hills, but as I got higher up Nun’s Walk I could see that it was a fire lit in the fields beyond the Lees. There is little burning in autumn these days, but one sees thin wisps coming up from gardens here and there. My husband once managed to make half of Coldstream totally disappear in clouds of smoke when he burnt a felled tree – but that was long ago. and far away. My father once lit a little fire in April, in the Middle Marches, when the wind had dried everything up, even the moss on the walls. Fire took hold, and started speeding towards the forestry, burning in all directions as fires do.  My father, with his trousers not hitched up properly as per usual, was trying to put out the fire with water from the stream carried in the top of an old fashioned lawnmower.  He called me to help, but I was standing at an upper window and had a bird’s-eye view of what was going on – so I immediately phoned the Fire Brigade, who eventually turned up, not exactly hotfoot, from Longtown.  Two fire engines.  They arrived as the fire just hit the edge of the forestry, having burnt an entire field of scrub. My father was crest-fallen, to say the least.  But was slightly cheered when, that evening, my very small son went up to him and said: “Thank you for the fire-engines, Grandpapa.”

November 15, 2013 Posted by | Photography, Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Evening: Boat on the Tweed


Set out walking on a bright November afternoon, but the light went so soon. The clouds were made roseate above the Tweed by the reflected light of the setting sun, blending the sky into lilac. The little boat looks lost out there on the water. Only another few weeks and we will have the longest night.

November 15, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Silly Swimpswamp

The Silly Swimpswamp

Poem from Old Merlaine

November 15, 2013 Posted by | Illustration, Uncategorized | , , | Leave a comment


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