caralockhartsmith

stories and illustration

Rough Water, November

Rough WaterI don’t know whether it was the remnants of Abigail, our latest tornado, or just a wee Scottish breeze, but suddenly at a quarter to four it was almost dark, and the wind was buffeting my camera and threatening to blow off my possum hat which was sent as a present all the way from New Zealand and which has been on my head more or less continuously ever since, still keeping off the rain with its magical properties, though its shape has gone a bit strange after all this hot and cold over the years. Suddenly the weather is bleak.  How good to have had those beautiful days of autumn when the beech leaves blazed out, still sprinkled with greenery; as now there is scarcely a leaf left on the trees, though the ground is thick with them, still bright and varied underfoot, though the lower layers are pulping down to mud.

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November 17, 2015 - Posted by | Art, Photography, Uncategorized | , , , ,

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