caralockhartsmith

stories and illustration

First Frost 3

afrost3This miniature rose has survived outside for four years now, and this will be its last flower of the year. The bright leaves of the acer outside the door have suddenly darkened and shrivelled. Driving back from Melrose this evening, it is dark by four o’clock.  We stop at St Boswells to have cappucinos and a shared brownie in the Main Street Trading Bookshop. Then as we head towards Coldstream, the moon lights up the road ahead with a wash of silver. The clear sky is banded with shades of blue, mauve-pink, pale yellow and then deeper blue overhead, while behind us the horizon that was outlined against the orange of the invisible sun slowly fades into shadow.  At five o’clock it feels like night. As December begins, suddenly it is winter.

December 3, 2014 Posted by | Art, Photography, Uncategorized | , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The Windowsill: Portraits, Shadows, Rose

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In the evening, the sun coming slant through the nets, reflections, shadows, caught just before I went out.  I want to take some more pictures of the windwsill, but today the louring skies are back, the Leet will be overflowing across the green as likely as not, so no shadows, no light. Yesterday in the wind the cherry bloosom blowing throug the air looked like hail. I shall hie me outside to get some fresh air, and keep an eye out for a day with brightness but not too much sun, so I can take some photographs of a particular tree stump that I liked, up in the Hirsel woods.  For the moment, au revoir.

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May 18, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , | Leave a comment

   

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