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.
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