TRACK*works

TRACK*works: Autumn Song.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Tue, 30 Oct 2012 16:10:00 +0000

TRACK*works: Autumn Song.: Glorious Decay. Autumn Song. Pines, the ancients oblige the red squirrels, slowly turning to meet the same rich colours. The t...

Autumn Song.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Tue, 30 Oct 2012 14:42:00 +0000

Glorious Decay.

Autumn Song.

Pines, the ancients, oblige the red squirrels, slowly turning to meet the same rich colours. The trees are dripping with the most beautiful golds and reds, a portent perhaps. The squirrels are busy, however do they remember...?

It has been so so long since I got to walk and sit on the old railway line. I miss it and despite there not being much sun for pretty photographs, we went along this weekend so see the changes. There have been some pretty dramatic nature-born happenings. The entrance to my little den was completely blocked by a huge old tree, blown down by a storm. Sort of sad, but an old man who lives nearby had cleared the track itself so walkers could still do the walk to the village of Avoch, effort worth its use as he now has enough firewood for the next year or at least once it is not longer green. We have been along and collected some of the small limbs for kindling and there is plenty left to enrich the forest floor. The same storm had brought down several more trees.

I took a box of woodland wild flower seeds to scatter recently - a little pay back - and I shall start filling my hidden bird feeders soon. While due to lack of transport or wicked dark weather this summer, I have not been able to visit the track, I have been reading books on walks or walking (some of which are listed below and highly recommended). I love finding writers that echo in their craft, the feeling I get from walking and being silent within the found ways, walks, woods, beaches; the effortless meditation easily wrought.

I urge you to read the reviews for both these books, for unlike my daughter, whose excellent reviews can be read at The Mountains of Instead, I lack the skills to entice you. I will say I got very different things from each title; Robert Macfarlane writes exquisitely, he made me want to walk and walk and walk, as I did when young. I used to do midnight hikes across the Pentland Hills to Flotterstone and I have walked from Sligachan to Elgol. Now that I am less fit, these books both feed my yearning and my love of walking in the natural world. Mcfarlane sets out much as Laurie Lee did many years before, to just walk out. You can almost feel the crunch of his feet on snow or hear the gentle squelch and feel the slight tingle of fear as he finds his way along the edges of ancient mud flats. He follows ancient sea routes to St Kilda in the company of Ian Stephen, someone we knew well when we lived in the Outer Hebrides. In fact, he meets and talks to many folk we knew and counted as friends while living there, they share his interest and are very knowledgeable of routes and ways. McFarland writes with a tenderness and grace and in one place a certain terror; do read 'The Old Ways' if you can.

'The Idle Traveller', a smaller book, just urges one, in the nicest way possible way, to travel slowly. I agree with his premise that if we get there (wherever 'there' is) by plane, we are processed and really don't 'travel' at all, we are processed then arrive. Go by train, walk and listen... travelling need not be a chore, stressful to implement, but a joy of discovery and happenstance. Keiran, like so many philosophers and writers, helps us to know that the getting there can be just as worthwhile as the arrival, the more so for taking your time.

Golden reflections near Loch Morlich

Now back to the old Railway line between Avoch and Fortrose. Slowly giving up its autumn secrets once more, a slow reveal. Above, the usually muddy rutted path on to the track is now covered by purest gold, pine needles. How wonderful if all that passes could have such a burst of glory before it dies.

Golden glory in decay, a bright portent of the rest to come.

What a joy it is to talk a small child into the woods so a blizzard of blown leaves falls, flits and fluttering about her yellow hair.
What a privilege it is that my father taught me to see and hear the wild world and to love and cherish it. I fear there may be little to pass on but the memories of wild and stunning places. We are derelict in our caretaking, it is to our peril if we don't enjoy and protect.

Mila (whose name means 'Glory') walks on paths of gold, we gather kindling and memories.

The autumn song, the fanfare before rest, is the seasons' glory and delight. Walk, see and write prettier words than me, get out there, feel the leaves from the shaken branch dance about your head, simple pleasures for complex times.

spring

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Mon, 28 May 2012 20:27:00 +0000

Hello there! it's been a long time but I thought I would share my spring trip to the track with my granddaughter Mila. I always think not much will have changed, but the place has a way of surprising you. The first thing I noticed right at the beginning of the track before the kissing gates was the structure above. I love this tree house; it doesn't look particularly safe but that's whats great about it. It's actually quite solid and accessed by way of a rope ladder. Can't you just imagine the fun to be had and where else could you find a play house that smells of pine and has a view of the sea...

We introduced Mila to the smells of the track; the rich greens of the undergrowth and the pungent odour of wild garlic. Many years ago when, I knew no better, I was walking along a woodland path and saw some lovely white wild flowers and as they were in such abundance I thought I would take some to my soon to be mother - in- law; well I did not endear myself to her one little bit, I has no idea it was wild garlic and as I had a bad dose of hay fever had no idea that it stank the whole house to high heaven. Of course nowadays one would never take any wildflowers, smelly or not.

I was delighted to see that the recent renovation work done on the old railway line had not disturbed the beautiful primroses growing by the little burns that flow with no name. I just love the elegance and the sensuous shapes of the unfurling bracken. Mila was interested that something so tightly curled now would open into a huge frond that will catch the light and spider webs in a few weeks. Sorry the above photo is a bit blurred, I am too decrepit at the moment to bend all the way down but this bracken will be two feet high in a few weeks time.

On we walked and on and on we walked, enticing a little girl with tales of bluebells and a tree where bats lived and that you could stand up inside. On the photo above you can see the banks of wild garlic and also one begins to see the track begin to look like the railway track it once was.

Mila looks out from behind a Standing stone that looks as if it has been here forever but it has not. It was placed here as part of a Brahan Seer Festival that my husband helped to organise and raise funds for many years ago. There is a prophecy carved into this stone,written both in Gaelic and English. The Brahan Seer was a rather mysterious figure (believed by some to have been the creation of a certain Alexander Mackenzie) who made a series of prophecies centered around the highlands and islands. Some appear to have come true (such as his declaration that boats would sail around the back of Tomnahurich hill in Inverness - now the site of the canal) while some remain a rather worrying possibility (fingers crossed his gloomy portents of flooding, drowning and disaster remain unresolved).

I think this spot, halfway along the track, is perhaps the prettiest place to sit; the ancient caledonian pines are old and gnarled and lean towards the light as if their ancient limbs need the warmth of the sun. I regret to say there is a fair bit of tree graffiti but the trees are old and hardy and have seen many things; trains, lovers, dog walkers and little children making tree houses and dens and so I only feel a little guilty that on our 25 wedding anniversary Andrew carved our names looking to where we used to sit with our old dog Ellis, whose ashes were scattered nearby.

...and below is the Bat Tree,though we feel its a bit of a local myth that Bats have ever roosted here. They certainly could, it's hollow for most of its height. I have known someone crawl in and stand up inside the tree below, Mila was having none of it. Wise child.

and so back the way we came with a weary wee girl that needed a rest. The track was looking lush but it will green up even more; the woodrush will grow taller as will the ferns and brackens; the bluebells will die back and new things will spring up. The birds will get louder, there might be deer; friends will keep meeting here; old ladies will still walk there; dogs and people will still gather kindling... and on it goes and we will be back before too long to take photos. Perhaps Mila will come too; oh, and Breagha the dog who as you will see gets a very particular pleasure from this old railway line and the burns that flow with no name but are very very muddy.Breagha is Gaelic for beautiful, I assure she is very beautiful...when clean.

Come out little tree...

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 14:42:00 +0000

Come out little tree, I know you are in there somewhere.

I once said to a friend that I thought the ivy looked beautiful, they took exception to this saying that the ivy strangles the host tree and therefore made it ugly. I have to disagree, the tree is still there underneath, it is still beautiful and I think quite lovely with its dress of green, it is all part of the natural process. It's a type of arrogance to say it should not be just as it is. The old railway line is just doing its own thing, if only all woods and all forests everywhere could be just left but we always have to think we can manage these places and so often in doing so destroy. But then perhaps this is part of our natural process, it's all about balance and acceptance.

When I left the house to go to the track there was an inch of snow in the garden and a lawn full of fluffed up birds waiting for food. In the image above there are traces of snow but with it being south facing and by the sea you have to get along there very quickly after snow falls to catch it in photos. As you can see the track is almost bare, there is woodrush and some evergreens plus of course the various types of ivy. One of these days I shall give you some names of ivy and their meanings. The photo below is in fact not the track but the forests near Aviemore just a few miles down the road and still holding lots of snow even the beach at Loch Morlich was white instead of sandy yellow.

Leaf by Leaf.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 13:38:00 +0000

Leaf by Leaf
the wind
tears away autumn.

by john tiong chunghoo.

Hmm... he claims this is a Haiku, I don't agree; strictly speaking it is not, but it is rather lovely and unless am inspired by the end of downloading the tracks offerings this sunday, it will have to do... but I challenge all readers (yes, all six of you!) to write me an autumn haiku..three lines, 17 syllables, five each line, yes yes I know you all know that but just in case...I shan't be at all worried if I don't get any contributions, just a thought. Sya has such good ideas to get folk reading or interacting with her blog and she has hundreds of followers.

I was struck how lovely the track was today and how I wished we took a leaf (no pun intended) out of nature; it dies down for the most part with such grace and such beauty. All along the path leaves in different stages of dying were like jewels. The old fence post above, slowly returning to source but stunning.We see it every year, knowing there is a kind of rebirth. I fear dying less and less, if I ever did that is, for each autumn I love that it always brings a sort of understanding of things.

There was no sun today but walking along was sheer pleasure, the wonderful crunching of feet on millions of gold leaves, there had been no rain so they were crisp and crunchy, this weekend last year there was thick snow and it was an altogether different crunch of feet. I have no idea if I could have eaten the mushroom above but it was huge and lovely and deserved to stay just where it was.

this photo does not do this lovely leaf justice; every one of the leaves on this tree was in a different stage of decay, had it been sunny this one would have looked luminous such was its papery thin skin, hmmm do leaves have skin, I think not.

You know I have no idea why I write this blog (but then, why does anyone?) This walk matters to me and my father tried to teach me look at nature and that the closer I looked the more I would love it and want to protect it. Of course, when he was trying to do this I was not in the mood for listening, but I do understand. Age brings a wisdom that I am not clever enough to articulate. I pick up a stick for the fire and move on, lugging camera and bags of kindling. It is so warm I have no coat. I fall and cannot easily get a grip to get up; but there, right next to me almost at ankle level, is a tiny bunch of black berries. I must have passed them lots times today but had not noticed them.
Nearly done... it's just my sunday walk really, but it has given me so much including being exhibited and having a whole day on a photo shoot by a acclaimed scottish photographer for a book I was included in. It has given quiet moments when I have missed the islands to a point of grieving and of course it has hidden me in plain sight when I really have been grieving or just wanting peace and quiet. I have seen deer and owls and hedgehogs and lovely people. It has taught me really look at what is around me and that, of course, we are not finished yet.

I liked the look of a painting in this photo of a young man walking along the track; it was so quiet I could hear his footsteps for a long way as he walked towards avoch.

so there we have it; the old railway track today, still holding on to some green, some birds, some heart. I think this is a haiku..the best i could do for now-

Leaf on leaf falling
this tree and that softly weeps
yellow tears, the green clings

x

turning .

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 18:34:00 +0000

How I miss my once regular visits to this old railway line, it was the weekly visits that allowed me to watch things slowly change, I felt in tune with things here and that they were in turn in balance.

Now I am away for weeks and i come back and already the odd splash of early colour seems to exclaim and emphasis the loss I feel. Its like when I hear a choir on radio or tv or see people passing my door on their way to Dingwall Choral , I sang with them for about 15 years, I miss this too for these two different pastimes where my souls salve, like the sea, like the wind.

I found the fallen feather just past the kissing gates, it looks as if it is floating on a very still pool ,it is not. My intellect tells me it is not a message, it is not from someone saying "I have not forgotten you, look I have sent you this white weather" There are no white birds here on this track, I look around for evidence of a clash of birds, or bird and fox, there is none. So I will take my message as this day is important, a birthday for someone no longer living, no longer living except in this heart and others.

As I get older I think more of shadows, there was a beautiful shimmering shadow on our wall, except that a shadow cant shimmer or glitter but the movement was of shimmering leaves. Is it real I asked a soon to be four year old. "yes" she said.

I think about shadows and wonder if they are real. At this time of year when we are told the veil between realms is supposed to be thinner, I think of shadows. I was taken by this leaf so pretty in its decay, almost heart shaped but not. At this time of year I think of shadows and of the found fallen gift.

till next time.

autumn is on us.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 19:43:00 +0000

It is so long since I have been here, the track is still lush green and with that warm vegetation smell, nothing much is turning brown or golden yet, not here at least but today the wind is brought golden leaves leaves down. I returned the track today and noticed that yellows were appearing and shone out even in the grey light. The birch leaves are just beginning to turn. below the old railway bridge that my grandchild likes to shout her name under to hear the echo,its hard to believe that huge steam engines used to thunder aove her head.

the photo above is just to show the wonderful texture of some of the trees that appear very old but in fact from their position that they can be no older that 57 years, the old railway line closed in 1954, the year i was born,there are still signs of the old line though...

tick tock the old clock ticks to golden bit by bit and very soon.

The Speed of birds, the noise of the machines.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 16:21:00 +0000

First trip back to the track and my den for weeks. Sunday was sunny and I resisted the temptation to have coffee in the Greenhouse, a community shop, or trek over and see what the old place was like. I so often feel the track has an awareness and welcomes me back today it was easy to have the delusion as when i arrived the sun came out and as i passed the kissing gates the bird song was loud and varied. Then the drone of lawnmowers kicked in everyone and his father seemed to be out shearing their lawns. The sound drowned out the little birds song but they were still there fast and fleeting oft times I could only just catch their shadows on the bare bark of oak and cherry and pine. The birds are so fleeting that often by the time you have registered thre movement of air and flick of feather they have disappeared. This Sunday a little bird flew down to the path and preceding me ,hopped along the path,seemingly waiting for me to catch up then hopping ahead again eventually when i got to the entrance to my den off it flew. Those of you that have read The Celestine Prophecy will know that one is encouraged not to ignore the animal or bird that seems to accompany new on your way bt to help it to heighten your awareness, your intuition, your perception.

As the drone of the noise of the machines faded , I was reminded of a Life Story by David Attenbourgh that morning on Radio 4, he was telling us of The Giant Bee, south America I think, this is he worlds largest Bee it builds its hive so that it hangs over cliffs edges, it suspends it from the cliff faces and defends the honey with penetrating and painful vigour. This train of though then took me to the times I have been stung on the track and to the time I had to give emergency Reiki to a dog that had been stung an was in shock.

The first time I was stung I sat in a beautiful spot far and from any houses or help..alas I did not know that bees nest underground and so do hornets, Ellis the dog and I were stung several times, painful as it was I felt guilty at upsetting the natural order of things. The second time I was sitting on the ground in my den and was idly scraping the leaf mould with a stuck, out from the from under the leaves came bee after bee and my they stung. Now I watch the woodland bees going in and out of their underground nest and stay well clear. I wonder what we walk upon in forests that we never see, the Buddhist way of walking mindfully seems potent.
The dog that got stuck needed water which i had and reiki he rallied and went off home, I was glad i was in the right place at the right time.

I sat on my little folded chair on my own watched and listened to the sea, watched the shadow of birds, smelt the wild garlic and spoke to no one, the sky darkens, the wind comes soft at first from left to right starting like a shushing through the canopy, i hear it getting near feeling nothing its the trees that get it and then its overhead and then off to my right it was like a tide of wind I strained to hear it as it disappeared toward the far end of the wood. I get the call and its time to go back to the machines and away from the speeding birds.
Till next time.

all photographs were taken this Sunday.

hearts delight and everything just waiting...

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 14:35:00 +0000

So long since I have been to the old track and my den there, I have missed it so. For personal reasons, due to health and circumtances I just dont go as much as I used to but on Sunday last I finally made it. I just had to feel the new energy, hoping always to glean some.

How many times i have been along this track in the last 16 years, I thought I knew every last inch of it and all that flourishes, blooms, dies and is born again there year after year but I had never noticed this wound on this tree before. I see a heart, you may not but I saw a heart and I felt it was a gift from a loved place , I never seen it before for I did not need it before....on sunday I needed some heart and this old worn down path gave me just that.

The Track has not got its canopy just yet but the stark bare place of only a month ago is greening up, the sun just bounces of the ivy, the meaning of ivy in the meaning of plants book is fidelity, affection and married love, how lovely for something that can poison or strangle its host, some of the Ivy vines are inches thick and wind way up tot he tree tops.

I have mentioned before I think that this track was an old railway line until 1954 , the sleepers are gone and only the leaves sleep and the bees and the wild flowers until spring but there are still signs of the old days and there are the Railway fence posts, this year I am going to gild the round part in 23ct gold leaf, few will see but those that do will look and wonder, I hope. If while they ponder, they hear the brilliant and varied bird song, the sea across gravel, the rustle of the little vole, then they will know why " when i am dead i shall return for every day i did not spend by the sea" a lovely poem from Neil Astleys Being Human.

See , I told you everything just waiting, the Honeysuckle above has white flowers seen on this blog somewhere from last year the, leaves have just opened, i never stop thinking it all a wonderful miracle even though i know it is not.

this oak tree has a way to go before it bursts into leaf think of all that energy, just needed a little more sun a little more light, just like me.

As I have not been feeding the birds that visit my den recently, when i got there the feeders were bare and no a single bird to be seen but then one by one they return, I was amazed at just how effective this little souls camouflage was.

so that it is it for now, i reflect that no matter how deep the wounds of sorrows past and present or how tired the feeble body, there are places given to us to heal the soul and this old place is that for me.

Long Time No Sea, no trees.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 18:54:00 +0000

The track was in the huff, I could feel, I left the house in the sun and when i stepped out through the kissing gates the sun went and the old railway felt angry. I had not been for such a long time, things had kept dying and living and growing older while i was gone and still the old place just kept on turning.

I watch them and they watch me.

The old railway sleepers are gone but the birch and alder and wild cherry, their trunks make for ghostly sleepers. It must have been one of the most beautiful little railway journeys in Europe , crossing the Black Isle, past the farms then with the Sea on one side of it and forest on the other, what a welcome sight it would have been for all those coming back from war, the steam billowing as the train passed Larches Leap. Home, home from hellish battle, home if a farmer from market, home, it felt like a kind of homecoming for me today. The old fench post above i have passed hundres of times but today I noticed that, it too has a beauty to it.

the birds returned to my feeders I was amazed they noticed so soon that I was there and though, they were slightly more wary than before bth Robin and Tit fed while i sat feeling the sun on my face, there was much bird song, the collared doves and wood pigeons ,the woodpecker hammering.

I have missed this place and its graces. Soon all with be leaf above me, leaf and light and warmth.

winter and the path chosen

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 19:47:00 +0000

The kissing gates frozen and cold but inviting still the same.

the path not yet trodden, the snow will make a secret of our passing soon enough, nature reclaims

Boughs unbroken catch the whispered word, snow like fog makes softer our words and softer still our footfall

as we walk on to the light at the end of the trodden way and to mullied wine and fires and candles bright in the window

we have turned and headed home as we always must but
not forgeting the friends we passed on the way, or the beauty of the day, the birds, the survivors
the blessings and the light.

Golden Forests and Golden Goodbyes.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Wed, 03 Nov 2010 01:28:00 +0000

Golden forests and the road home

Even old coal sheds can be gorgeous in autumn light

Old pines and one last birch gleaming

This Sundays walk was filled with light all golden and copper and stunning even though there was little sun. I walked while my emotions churned from awe at the beauty ot it all, my tears flowing from the sure knowledge that my father, who passed away last week, gave me all the appreciation of the wild outdoors I have now. When I was a small child in a pushchair he would point out everything on walks around ponds and along old railway lines. I learnt from him how precious this earth is and all it contains. I guess my dad will walk within me on all my future walks and one day when the tears are gone I shall remember him singing as we walked along and be glad of him.

Track In Colour

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 20:32:00 +0000

My walk on the track this Sunday was brief, but I was glad that I went.

The leaves are falling fast in a golden blizzard that gentle flits and furls around ones head and then becomes audible as we walk among the brown and gold carpet of crushed leaves. You can hardly see the track itself. In the past the track has become like a golden river until the rain comes and the energy changes yet again.

The image above is of a lovely spot - my old dog Ellis and I spent many hours sitting here. There are ancient Caledonian pines and the sea provides the bright light as it is directly in front of this natural view point. Ellis once dug a huge hole here I was so horrified that, the nex Spring I brought some little bulbs and planted them in the hole. The resulting little woodland flowers bloomed for years. I know that a couple even got married here once, although they must have had a bit of a walk first.

A garden that has little to separate it from the track, full of trees, veg plots and productive disorder

as well as the most golden tree on the whole of the track.

It is hard to imagine that 56 years go there were trains billowing steam travelling along this track, it must have a beens a really wonderful ride with farm land on one side and sea on the other. In the war little boys would walk along the track late at night after they had been to watch a film at the army cinema. One old man said that his mother would have killed him if she had known that the walked along the line in the dark.

Enjoy the intimate immensities that autumn brings, light, billowing leaves, the earth is winding down. It so lovely to watch and feel.

turning .

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 13:43:00 +0000

For a long time I was away from the old railway line this summer, more that a month. The weather was often awful and I dont have the stamina I once did for sitting longs hours in the rain. I left the house last Sunday when it was grey and umpromising but there you go just as I arrived at the kissing gate the sun appeared and the loved light returned.

Everything was more green than i had expected, the track does seem to turn very slowly at this time of year. Still a few blackberrys here and there. Honeysuckle flowers gone but berries pearcing the green light.

I love the luminous greens. I also love picking the leaves that have been eaten and look like lace in parts, they are perfect for my artcards but so many folk would think them unlovely and look for the bugs who had them for dinner. There a few yellow leaves but not too many yet.

I sat watching for birds at the feeders I have out of sight on the track but though each feeder is empty when I get there, no birds appear. I think the birds are being disturbed by the increase of dogs in the area so perhaps they will not appear while I am there any more.

I collected lots of leaves and grasses and this week it will be woodrush. Lets hope for nice Autumn light.

Time For Bramble Whisky Making

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 20:12:00 +0000

I have not been able to write for a bit having been in the far south, then the far north. Strange seasons this year, sort of absent. I feel it still should be summer but one feels autumn knocking at the door. Birch leaves shiver more readily and the leaves are turning yellow, we know what comes next.

I will have to get along the track soon to get as many leaves in as many stages of change as I can or I shall not be able to make cards next year. It is strange that, given how much of my work is inspired by trees, I should spend my holidays in Westray (Orkney), where there are almost none. the truth of it is that when i moved to a place where I could no longer by near the sea, I found trees and marvelled at how oceanic the sound of a forest is when the wind blows - just shut your eyes and listen and you'll hear it too. This years holiday, our twelfth year visiting the island, was as special as ever.One arrives and the lovely light lifts the soul. The jewel like shores and contented cattle are like a balm.

Three years ago we built a cairn to remember Sarah and I marvel at the kindness of the islanders have cared for and accepted it. I am also in awe that it still stands after three winters of storms. Home now for a few days then Orkney again for a few. The track will feature again soon, it always reclaims me sooner or later.

The Track and its myriad visitors...

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 21:39:00 +0000

I collect most of the material for my cards from a woodland track which was once an old railway line. It is particularly lovely at this time of year -lush and green with countless wild flowers and many types of birds. I have been lucky enough to see wrens and woodpeckers this year at feeders that I have placed at points along the track and have spotted tree climbers too who are great are fun to watch as they hop up the ancient caledonian pines. I had hoped to have lots of photos of the track this summer but alas so much rain... Hopefully we'll get an Indian summer later on. What you cannot see from the above photograph is that while walking along this old line the sea below you on one side. On a windy day it is hard to tell the song of the sea from the windsong in the trees as the waves billow and the trees bend. I love it.

The red squirrels that appear regularly are so lovely and very welcome (long may the greys stay away). This little fellow was very clever, opening the nut holders from the top so as to get drier and fresher peanuts. He was fully aware, if wary, of me.

Reunion

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 20:01:00 +0000

She will set

her sail and

cast of this

fine ship

with its

billowing canvas

and the brasses

on fire

perfection in

the dying sun

she will come

and till will

be kind to you

for even though

seas and seasons

time and tides

have driven

you apart

she will find

you and

return to you

her heart

(written in response to leaving my island home many years ago)

Patience Lies Sleeping. A boxed poem inspired by an old railway line and the churchyard at its end.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 16:20:00 +0000

At dawn one can only guess

at universal secrets,

magical mysteries, a

seasoned grace and all that

embodies spirit of place.

and patience lies sleeping

lies sleeping, lies sleeping

patience lies sleeping at

the end of the track.

Patience lies sleeping

lies sleeping , lies sleeping

Patience lies sleeping with

with jack at her back.

not for her the kissing gates

clandestine tete a tetes

nor for her the curlews cry

not for her the blue, grey sky

with three swans streaming.

Not for her the Bluebell wood

waiting to exclaim, not for her

the stichwort, garlic, celandine

and thyme and

burns flowing without name.

For patience lies sleeping

lies sleeping,

Patience lies sleeping

at the end of the track

a dove at her head a

wren on her breast

Patience lies sleeping

At rest

At rest.

Bird Baths and The Downfalls of Scotland in the Summer.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 11:20:00 +0000

Clearly I have a way to go with this blogging business - I am still trying to figure out how to spread the word re. This blog... Today is another grey day but warm, I cannot be the only person in the north of Scotland hoping for some sun. Will be on vitamin D supplements for winter if we don't get some of the real stuff soon!

Lots of birds in the garden who are making great and entertaining use of the bird bath. Except that the baby birds get confused and just sit there for ages until they get the idea at which point there is a flurry of sprayed droplets and much preening. Have not seen our resident collared doves, Mac and Mabel for ages and hope they have not deserted us.

track*works boxes.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 10:01:00 +0000

It was a grey day again today and was stormy last night with lots of wind song in the eves, this also means lots of old branches will have fallen - gifts for my cards and for our fire. This little box was a wedding present and the map fragents are of places dear to the couple who recieved the box. It was received by a delighted Cristina:

"A stunningly personal artpiece, which said a little something about both myself and my husband. Totally unique to us. We love it! A great gift idea!"

You Are Like A Silver Fish, In And Out Of My Mind

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 19:50:00 +0000

This simple little card is one of my most popular. I found the words in a book of days in the waiting room of a Dental surgery where I was working 40 years ago (am no spring chicken...).

Something A Bit Different

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 19:46:00 +0000

This is a new venture for me. These cards are made from a mixed media of acrylic paint gesso and marvin medium, the surface is layered and textured and may in time include images and text.

Seascape

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 19:12:00 +0000

This little island is made from the leaves of woodrush, which grows in abundance along the track while the trees in the foreground are comprised of moss or lichen from fallen branches. Moss and lichen grow beautifully in the clean air up here.

Slides

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 19:07:00 +0000

This design consists of handmade paper and lichen/moss from fallen branches of alder and birch (or any highland trees). It also features silver leaf. Consistently popular, this card design regularly sells out of stockists. It gives me great pleasure that this design, and others, have winged their way all over the world as from the Orkney Islands and the Outer Hebrides to as far afield as Russia, Australia and the States.

A Small, Affordable and Unique Way To Stay In Touch.

noreply@blogger.com (Lee) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 19:01:00 +0000

This is a hugely popular card design. It can consist of up to 26 separate fragments. Each card is therefore always unique - I have literally never made two the same. They consist of map fragments, handmade papers, leaves, silver leaf and birch and alder bark - trees known the great protectors in myth and tradition.