Yesterday’s blossom had my mind

An evening that was

Walking vaguely west I felt a branch brush my shoulder. The sun, our sun, emerged from behind the body of the tree as I continued.

I watched as the wind moved the grasses under a watery sun. There was nothing in mind for a while.

#januarty #angle mountains in the morning

surface. day. feel. changeable.

My guitar and new strings.

It was a morning of colour and haunting birdsong over the flats

Moonrise

Leaves released

Twelve feet

A cough from somewhere Leaves rustle - a cat, blackbird, or wren, perhaps Foghorn echoes from the docks to the west Cold air through my nose Drops landing, here and over there Sounds that cut the ink-like silence Branches gather the mist and my thoughts

Wallace Stevens

Toes and ankles in the chilled foam. Head and senses in the wind and spray. Thoughts in the clouds.

Dawn. Stood in the bay. Wind and waves in deep conversation

Albarrán Cabrera, 2018 The Mouth of Krishna

Stood next to it as all of it sang

There’s a man outside my window

Yestereve I watched the light fade over the estuary. There are hints of orange in the sky this morning and dreams in between

Michael Kenna

Toni Demuro Connection

The young and the old watching over the park on this frosty morning 💚💙🍁🍂🌳

Lying in silence among the grasses this evening my camera and I. I wondered upon the age of the sun and how it compares to its peers. My front sodden with dew but care not did I. #FindingQuietPlaces

Beside water and grasses as our star dips for the night. Nothing in mind but now, and absorbing the gift.

the storm came knocking winds unraveling the sky clouds brooding nigh sea spoke in voice of thunder a poet stood rooted in awe fear & wonder intertwined in march of chaos & purpose in tempest's temper she saw with no #delay her life raw compressed divine #vss365 #FromOneLine 🖼️ akacademia/DeviantArt

Footloose. Essence of a winter’s day. Wind buffeting water into wrinkled silk, a broad smooth skin of sand and black blisters of rocks beneath the dune banks. The sand sinks beneath my feet as the rocks and sea sing and I do not know how far I will go.

A Wider View

I looked for you between horizons That soft space bleeding memory and imaginings like the veils of morning warming with the sun

as though the place to rest

📷️Nikon Zf 📸AUTO CHINON 50mm F2 #photography

Just throwing some paint around. Trying to get back in the groove. 🙏🏻

good morning world

still, I love you from a distance silent as a wish waiting in the belly of the well

I see dreams on the horizon. Collections of dreams. A tide retreats to collect them. In flood it returns with its catch. I sit and wait for it, waiting to swim.

Puffins.

Sought quiet places this afternoon, to bathe in the wind and be cleansed by its blanket. Stilled and in the present for a while, talking my stories to the air who carried them away and dissolved them. Renewed calm and clarity.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things. ~Mary Oliver, Wild Geese Beki Killoran, Still Moon

Etymology of the day: to be ‘blowing a hoolie’ (or ‘hooley’) was probably inspired by the Orkney word ‘hoolan’, a howling gale, with a touch of the ‘hooley’ that is a very noisy party thrown in.

That time of day when conscious thoughts mingle with bursts of dreams leaving an uneasy middle existence. Quite delicious, sometimes.