Droving with birds

...waiting for Bob at the crest of the Lane...from the Home field gate the land rolls gently downhill and finally disappears into the shaggy green lollipops that form the tree line. Then the Weald  takes over, rising like a full tummy, round and green with straw coloured patches where the hay has been cut. Green ric-rac hedges crisscross the faraway hill as it rises...

...Miles away when, suddenly a prickle of electricity, sudden noise...a whoosh overhead, a stream of fast moving air dragging the hairs on my neck upright like a magnetic force. Wings beating in unison, I couldn't hear the drums beating the pace but I felt them. My neck snapping backwards I see them, directly overhead now, an "unkindness" of ravens. Such a rush still pulsing through my body, I stare after them aware of every muscle fibre tingling with exhilaration. As their massed formation passed over it seemed we were connected by some invisible threads. I swear had their number been greater I would have been carried off with them beyond the farthest hill.
And then, the second wave, hundreds more, pulsing past, this time I was prepared and yet somehow even more exhilarated. Once again my entire being responded, connected, somehow to their energy, this is how it must feel to be plugged into the mains. Every hair on my body, electrified.I stood motionless long after they had gone and marveled at the beauty and strange thrill of  those few moments.

image from  here

~~~

...waiting for Bob at the crest of the Lane. 

We are moving some of his sheep today, onto Home field. Bob and Anne live on the Lane directly beneath ours in a lovely peg tiled farmhouse, the kind you imagine with a real cottage garden and lambs grazing in the orchard.

I unlock the gate to Home field and cross it, heading down hill, over the stile and onto Bob's field. Across a tiny wooden bridge that spans the field gully and onto Bob's Lane. Ah there he is! 

Waiting for the girls to drove the sheep up to the farm gate.

We're off! The drove begins...at quite a lick...

here we are turning them onto THE Lane!

 

 Passing our driveway on the right, I realise I haven't shut the gate...oops, a few lambs take the opportunity to head for the garden! A little persuasion from the Boodle does the trick and all were reunited on Home Field where, grazing duties are happily undertaken.

~~~

Those ravens haunt me...their cruel cries draw me out of the kitchen in the evening. Roosting in the trees at the bottom of Home field, the homecoming every evening is loud and I feel compelled to watch them return. 

I wonder at my attraction?

 image source observando

 At  night I am dreaming of  Hans Christian Andersen's Wild Swans. I was mesmerised by this strange story as a child...perhaps I am longing to be carried away...

~~~

And all the while late summer spoils us with golden sunsets

~~~

...and for those brief few moments I would have described them as a "rapture" of ravens...

image Txema Yeste

Love,
 the Raven Girl!
--x--

myriad of...

A Bohemian Life

Cultural Crosspollination

for ARTS SAKE

Paper Musings

I have discovered a new order to the spectrum

It goes like this: henna, marigold, saffron, aloe, lapis, indigo, orchid

Here I am an outlaw striding toward the outer reaches

of awe the edges of every colour. I wring out

each shade until laughing I invent new ones

There is something I have seen or only dreamed

In a sun hushed alley shifting beams of memory

Honey the shadowedstreet tatters of whispers

Dark and spice wafted the burnish of ancient wonder

Still gilds the arched pathway echoing now

With the tender hooves of a young goat

The universe diverges here. I go home

Remembering. I stay forever. I see.

What they have seen. They have tasted the spices

I hold in my mouth. In muted observance

In a palace built for a favourite queen

In the cheerful dishevelment of colour. I am.

Here the shade and sun love me equally

I fill a palm with green cardamom

I bend toward a heap of tea leaves

Crushing tangible memories between

My fingers releasing a rush of recollection

Rich as living. Always mine. Always mine.

poem found in Anthropologie catalogue, author unknown

Green Kitchen Stories

Sunkissed Summer Skin

Wall Me Do

I am dedicating this post to Polly...on your Birthday

--x-x-x--

Painted Garden

Last week I had lunch with good friends at Virginia's house....she is an artist and I was longing to see what she has been working on, fancy a sneak peak? 

...we sat in her amazing garden amongst the roses and the bumble bees...a riot of scent and colour...we babbled and talked and mused...ate and drank and babbled...and then she showed us her watercolour sketches for new canvases...a joyous riot of flowers, pattern and colour...

...how we swooned...

...later, I was reflecting on all the luminous colours, layered, sheer watercolours and remembered this poem that always makes me smile and think of Virginia...

I have discovered a new order to the spectrum

It goes like this: henna marigold saffron aloe

lapis indigo orchid. Here I am an outlaw

an adventurer striding toward the outer reaches of awe

the edges of every colour. I wring out

each shade until laughing I invent new ones.

Anthropologie 

You can see more of Virginia's work here. 

I will post more of this lovely poem about colour next time. I found it a few years back in an Anthropologie catalogue, I have no idea who the author is and a Google search has proved fruitless, if you happen to know I would be thrilled if you would update me.

Until then...Test Match Special awaits...

--x--

Time for a catch up?

Breakfast under the tree....warm breeze...the roses scenting the air...close my eyes and burn the negative into my memory...

~~~

Hello....it's been too long....far, far too long. I have been aching to get back here. Been a bit off kilter, all for lovely reasons, you know, with only the real world as an excuse!
Far away brother visit, Magpie visit, photo shoot, party in the Cowshed, Hampton Court Flower Show, sheep droving, Seaside, fencing, party in the garden, tractor,Wimbledon, cricket, ironing (something had to give!)

And so to begin our catch up, here is the Cowshed all dolled up ready for the Waltons to arrive...

 

 

We had a brilliant night...me, John-Boy, Jim-Bob, Mary-Ellen, Erin, Ben at al!

As the darkness fell we lit a fire and tea~lights...watched the flames dance...and so did we...

*...I hope the dance lasts all summer long...

--x-x-x--

All the images here are mine with this exception * from Nathiya Prathnadi via Flickr