January Moon

This is the moon over the field beside the small wooded path on the other side of the Tweed. I notice thorns and brambles in monochrome where in summer there is profusion of leaves and flowers. This has been my week of the moon. Next week will be the winter sun. It is all a bit dreich still in the Borders, but the beautiful hellebores, the delight of winter, are coming into bloom. I was returning from feeding the birds at the top of the garden, and as I came past the shed and back down into the path beside the lawn (soon to be a miniature orchard) , I heard the most alarming buzzing which I thought came from amongst the winter trees, a sound much too loud for insects, and too frenzied for an electric saw. Then the buzzing grew softer and higher and I saw a drone climbing up towards the clouds. A strange and sinister thing.

Happy New Year

Boy in the Moon

Thirty

Moon and Willow Tree

The Moon Caught Up in a Tree

Moon Over River Tweed

Moon Over The Cheviots

Winter Moon

The Moon and the Little Hill

I had been walking towards the setting sun on the English side of the Tweed, and it was getting  dark, so I turned back towards Coldstream Bridge, and suddenly caught sight of the moon shining very brightly beyond the bridge, in a sky which was coloured mauve by the last light of the sun.  This little hill with the trees on top is visible from all different angles in Coldstream, it keeps cropping on the horizon.  It has been a fine day, none of the frost that was expected. There were swans on the river this late afternoon, sailing two by two, as well as swans in the fields, where they overwinter.  I disturbed a bushful of long tailed tits, they all flew up one by one as I approached; and as I returned I saw them in the bare tree they had flown to, a whole gang of them.  They’re like children who run around together, and keep whizzing into sight and then darting off, never still, always following each others actions. Unlike the sparrowhawk we saw on the way back from Kelso this morning, sitting hunched in a tree by the field’s edge, very much on its own,  on the qui vive for dinner, no doubt.