Wednesday, 30 June 2010

Down the road, evening.

The buzzard drops from the flowering chestnut tree and drifts across the barleyfield.  The crow catches up on a sharp black horizontal, rams it from behind before the next tree.

Monday, 28 June 2010

Down the road, evening.

Late, and the lopsided chestnut's long shadow waves like a giant over the wheatfield, the road is cool for Molly's comfort, and the day's matters move easily over the mind.

Sunday, 27 June 2010

Down the road, early evening.

Some oats have got in with the seed barley.  A few stems grow twice its height, delicate, green, feathery,  like sons and daughters who favour another side of the family.

Saturday, 26 June 2010

Trédaniel plan d'eau, morning.

There are many very large, blue and green dragonflies, copperwire winged, wheeling, skimming and hooping to lay eggs in the water.

In the bushes, a rabbit thumps as we pass.

Thursday, 24 June 2010

Down the road, evening.

The heart is slightly less heavy now, though perhaps the relief is illusory, or temporary.  People must be walking around with such crushing weights inside them all the time.  How?

Wednesday, 23 June 2010

Quessoy arboretum, afternoon.

The river has grown low and sluggish; the light through the overhanging trees reflects on its surface in patches of rust and milk, a tidemark of scum makes contours lines.

Friday, 11 June 2010

Trédaniel plan d'eau, afternoon

Pointless trying to identify baby birds' calls, they are all identical: an insistent 'pseee'.  This is a wagtail, flittering about the grass, not flying off until we are quite close.

Wednesday, 9 June 2010

Trédaniel plan d'eau, afternoon

I suddenly become aware that the path is covered in thousands of tiny brown froglets making their way from the water.  I hope I haven't inadvertently trodden on any already.

Tuesday, 8 June 2010

Down the road, afternoon.

The barley looks like it needs the hairdresser: its topmost fringes are bleached and brassy highlights, and stray strands of wheat and rough grass stand out longer than the rest.

Saturday, 5 June 2010

Down the road, early evening.

There is a strange whitish glow everywhere, everything softened, waiting, murmuring slightly. A chill has descended, a change in wind and weather. 

A splash of red campion against the blue-green.

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Down the road, early evening.

A mustard-coloured motorbike, low-slung, with gleaming chrome and a quiet engine, and its rider with flying black leather fringes and flames on his helmet, are an unusual sight hereabouts.

Wednesday, 2 June 2010

Approach to Bogard, afternoon.

The poplars are shedding great ticklish drifts of kapok, and also small round tripartite seedpods which burst when squeezed, so the kapok unpacks itself, expanding like foam from an aerosol.