Melting pot 13

• On my coffee table - Sadly, I'm almost at the end of "We are all made of glue" by Marina Lewycka. I'm trying to make it last another day even though my reading pile has way too many volumes waiting for me. It was Marina who wrote "A short history of tractors in Ukrainian" which has to be one of the most unlikely titles ever to have drawn me. I've also just started "Seeing stars" by Simon Armitage which is unlike his other work, but full of memorable images and I had a lucky find in the library - "Adverbs" by Daniel Handler - aka Lemony Snicket. Time off work and new reads on the table. Good timing.
• On my music stand - Well, I have some precious time off work (day job) at the moment so I am making sure that I have a proper break. However......
• On my radio - The BBC Proms are filling our Summer airwaves with great sounds, every night until mid September from The Royal Albert Hall. I've been a fan since I was a tiny child who wanted to play the violin. All the concerts are available on play again settings as well, so you can imagine, lots of music in the house. Highlights so far have been an amazing concert of Beethoven fueled with absolute fun and passion by the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen aiming to perform as in Beethoven's time. The soloist was one of my favourite violinists - Hilary Hahn who seemed to be inspired to play beyond herself. I would love to have been there that night. And tonight was a Sondheim 80th birthday celebration that was fun from start to finish.
• At the allotment - Green and yellow courgettes, green and yellow zucchini, green and yellow courgettes, green and yellow zucchini. YES!! we have a glut. THEN we had some half decent rain, which has been a very rare thing in this part of the UK for way too long, so I guess there will be some more courgettes tomorrow. They've been making family, friends and neighbours very happy so far, but I think we might have to start leaving them in the park or something. Oak leaf lettuce which is delicious. The last few blueberries. French beans. Sweet peas which I can smell from across the room. They look so gorgeous as well.

After the rain

Click!

White water. White out.

It screenplays past your unblinking eyes.

Erases a city from your mind.

Brushes away all the thoughts you need to discard.

Roars through you.

Leaves you captive on a flooded shore.

You hear only the friction of water on a mission.

You fall asleep in deafening white noise.

Dream only of dancing waves.

Pathways let go of their wish to become streams.

We took to climbing through oak forests carpeted in tree ferns.

Trailed by clicking wrens.

Happy boots.

Slate fences beside an abandoned farm.

I hear the hammer blows inside my joints.

Flats heaved up from the dripping mine.

Squared into a sheepfold.

Stamped close and true.

Lamb bleated.

Sheep rubbed.

They made the bridge with what was to hand.

What the river had eaten underground.

Dragged by pony cart.

Roped across and made to sit sure.

Left us a fine way to cross, or linger.

A different valley. A different climb.

Higher this time. More open.

Views I have never gazed.

Blue eyes of tarns.

Gravel screes that beckon your vertigo.

White mirrors of sea that crows fall across.

Five little oceans you can turn to gaze at.

Afon Glaslyn

The river roared and the rain poured down and made the river rage even more. It was all very dramatic in Wales, where I spent last week beside Afon Glaslyn in Snowdonia. No wonder I keep wondering why the house seems so quiet! I so miss hearing it threading through the house.

It was very reassuring to see the mountains emerging from the rain and mist again. The first and last shots here were done looking out from the little garden right alongside the river. That rocky outcrop below is partly covered in rhododendron, so you can imagine what it's like when in flower.

However, I had to resort to some sketching indoors while we could only see grey rain and a river that seemed to be high on the ride. YES, I know - me who likes to be out there in the Westerlies! I've never explored line and wash in a storm and didn't take up that challenge this time, having no welly boots. (Drat, I hear you say.) So, the next couple of shots show some little river studies. They made me feel much better about being confined indoors in one of the most gorgeous parts of Britain. Thank goodness for my little watercolour box, ink and wax.

So, I guess it's no surprise that as soon as the skies started to clear, we were out, heading into those mountains, making up for lost time. I'll post some shots of the views soon, but I have to tell you that I've never seen this part of the world looking so stunning.

Date with a mountain

I've been imagining it all week.

See, there's a river I love staying beside, whose tabla song threads through the house there, runs right through your dreams, makes you gasp when you dip your feet in when you come down from walking in the mountains all day.

The photo was taken on the window ledge there last time.

Sorry that my etsy store will be unavailable while I'm away.

Back soon.

Buried treasure - my wild desk

Seth Apter at The Altered Page is hosting Buried Treasure, where bloggers will be reposting favourite posts which you might have missed first time round. So, here are some words and images which relate to a theme I return to often - my wild desk - with links to the original posts if you want to look back in time. I redid the photos so they are click able this time round. Enjoy!

Out under the travelling sky, when I kicked them up from damp grit, wrenched them from the mud with bare hands and put them in my pocket, still damp. When I sat on a rock and scribbled with a stub of pencil on the damp pages of my notebook, speckled with the first spit of rain. The images were more alive when the wind was in my hair.

Time at the desk brings something else. And it made me think that my "real" desk is the world. These words came to me yesterday when I was choosing a new image for my blog banner. Tough to choose, but this is a sketch done out on the moor near Malham in the Yorkshire Dales, when the sky was looming low and it was time to head indoors after a productive day in the hills.

Wild weather was shadowing my back. I remember hoping that the ink would dry before the rain swept in as I carried my paintings strapped onto the back of my rucksack. The words in the notebook came later when I was doing some free writing.

Words and top image are from a post called At my desk from May 2009. Happier with the wind in my hair and a storm flooding in. My desk is rarely wild enough for me. The images here were painted out on hilltops in some of the wild weather I talk about.

From Wind Hail and fury 19th January 2009, here's one of the paintings I did that day.

a wild day out in the elements on Boss Moor on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales, when the sky came down as well. Acrylics, grit, sand, wind, hail and fury.

One of my happiest times ever, was up high on the Lancashire moors, in an August gale, wearing every item of clothing I had with me, wrestling with a wonderful handmade piece of A1 rag paper that I imprisoned beneath rocks. I was up there with a group of artists who huddled behind walls like moaning grumbling sheep. I spent the day in a ditch, so warm out of the wind in such a painting frenzy that they didn't see me until it was time to go home. I felt tearful at the thought of that day being over.

From My last ditch 26th December 2008.

Time to get the paints out again, I think!!

Ps. Remember to go and check out some of the other Buried Treasure links on Seth's blog. It will be updated as more people post.

Palm sized map

He sketched it as a palm sized map, drew his homeland from memory. Straight line boundaries of farms and fisheries, regular as city blocks. Land sliced up. Keep out signs. He pointed out the unlined country, showed me what I really needed to know. Wild places where no-one goes.

June light

June light hangs late,

blue like your favourite shirt,

the one that makes every day

into a good one.