Blackthorn Blossom 3

Tangled up, like illustrations to the story of Sleeping Beauty, that barrier of thorns round the castle still hung with the cadavers of defeated suitors. It was a fairy story that haunted me, but it was the sleeping castle I loved, I imagined insects crawling around over the sleeping grooms and cooks and housemaids and the face of Beauty herself. Perhaps it was only the domestic animals that were put into a sleep. The Prince himself, with his blonde pageboy hair, I never took to, not even when he was gallantly tearing down the thorns: just as when, in Beauty and the Beast, the Beast turns into a handsome prince – my dear, what a disappointment!

Blackthorn Blossom 2

Blackthorn Blossom 1

Blackthorn By River Tweed

Daffodil and Its Shadow