It’s raining as I walk home. Cool, Welsh rain. It’s not too heavy, but it’s close rain that wets thoroughly and the earth soaks the drops in quickly. My cheeks and hands are cold and my hand shields my lens in case I see something I want to photograph. The trees are saturated so much so that the filtered drops of rain form into channels hard to dodge. I think this a bumper year of good, fast, even growth. Copper beech trees are almost in full copper phase and only a wisp of green shows. The jackdaws feeding their young chide above my head as I pass and the babes complain at their momentary neglect. I look up, but the rain beats my face and I walk on, conscious of growth, vibrant greens changing by the minute and the mud beneath my feet slides from each step.
New spruce cones
I though this spruce quite lovely. The stunning colour, the shape, the stand to attention. Not flower-pretty, but pretty none the less, don’t you think? As I pass the beech stands I’m conscious of the woodland silence absorbing my steps. I stop to listen but there is no sound apart from dripping rain. The rain has stopped and the wind jostles the now unfurled ferns that press silently back and forth beneath the outspread beeches.
The Penrhyn Castle gates stand wide as I leave the yew trees just inside behind. I think pine trees and spruce, fir trees too, to be fine trees.
The cherries are filling out now. Soon, with some warm weather, the cherries will redden. I live off them for a few weeks.
Walking through the village where I live I leave the world where I work behind. My planes and chisels are where they should be arranged and sharp. So too my saws. Hand tools give me great pleasure