Peaks and Troughs… Take 2…

Well if yesterday was a ‘trough’ day creativity wise…today is most definitely a bit of a ‘peak’ moment confidence wise….. My application to take part in this year’s Melbourne Festival has only gone and been accepted!!!!!! Am sitting typing this in a state of disbelief….although I will admit to running round the house shrieking when I got the email….

 

 

Must admit now though, that blind panic is setting in…..

Having never done a festival before have you any tips for this first timer……????

Peaks and Troughs…

With all the travelling over the past few weeks, I have, at times, felt like an itinerant salesman…living out of a suitcase…. That’s not to say that some of the travelling wasn’t enjoyable… a week in Scotland…bathed in glorious sunshine, followed by a few days in the Lake District with equally good weather was wonderful…

…and with all these fabulous vistas I should feel inspired to draw, paint, create….. but…. I am definitely in a creative trough… I know it is all part of the cycle, of the process so I am trying not to give myself a hard time…..but…..

Anyways, after landing back home for a few days and catching up on all the inevitable chores, I took myself down to the river…trying a different sort of creativity…jotting down notes about what I saw and heard…

Dark, flowing river,

Ripples, slowly winding their way downstream,

Smaller ripples forming a stationary pool within the ribbon..

Heron gliding in on arched wings,

Reeds bending in the breeze,

Lily pads floating in circles, anchored

Cow parsley swaying,

Swallows performing aerial acrobatics

Skimming the water,

Willow dipping her branches like a washerwoman.

At first I thought it was oilseed rape but no…

Buttercups, swaying, golden, drinking in the sun…

And always, the incessant chatter…

swallows swooping across the meadow…

…and desire paths…

Worn flat by people…dog walkers, fisherman, children…

…and hiding in the shadows, like a shoal of fish, lily pads,

Furled, waiting to uncurl…

Pure white dead nettles…clinging on

Despite the detritus of humans…

Moorhen, or is it a coot, gathering material,

Nesting along the river bank,

Hidden amongst the grasses, reeds and nettles,

As the heron performs another leisurely flypast…

 

At least I feel as if I have done something creative today…