Plein air

Find the right place and everything will come to you –Judith da Fano

The ground has been roughly applied

then smoothed by a day’s rain. Yesterday

would have been impossible. Imagine

walking over the surface and the brush

is a journey.

All morning I step over bluebells,

wind flowers, under tall sunlight angling

thin pines eager to strike open

the golden view of the Pikes

from the river’s edge.

Smell the petrichor – earth, moss,

tender ferns, ripe cones. No-one walks by,

no-one is asking anything of me but myself.

Don’t cheat. Don’t rely on guesswork. Observe.

Never make a mark without first looking –

basics learned with the tap of a ruler on my wrist.

Palette laid, I brush in woodland air.

A heron lands, sheep graze into view.

Sap green, umber, cadmium yellow

flows brilliantly through the scene.

From A Window of Passing Light