Looking at the outline of the oak against the heavy white sky
a repetitive, breathing,swish, unnerved me
swish, had me look up, swish,
I was sitting in the centre of a V ( the other way up) of Canada Geese
white and grey against the white
symmetry of wing and pattern
an uplift of magic
on this seeping, dull, lightless day

It is bright sun

ice crystallizing the bricks

breath of steam, the only moving cloud

The birds are back.
At least six kinds
The birds are back.
Stacking their claim to holding onto sound

I listen like a dull grey seed hugging my winter self.

A shard of shadow pierced with light reaches under the barn door.

 Must walk home.
Holding tense against the ice
gentle          cautious             careful

Hold it tight.

strong sun and shadows
snow is actually ice crystals like rock salt enlarged
clinging together to reflect enough light to be white
and give the appearance of snow

there are no birds
just the wind
no rustles no squeaks - just air
almost bleak
are they all in hiding?


off towards christmas

Looking at tracks trying to work out which tracks belong to what sort of car

Enough light in the sky to give things a colour, more pronounced and variable today

deep dulled magenta of faraway birches
black shadows in soggy brown pines
bright orchre of oak
old fashioned dark green velvet of yew
turning tan of last lying leaves cradled in icicle snow

A day later, snow on the ground, snow falling, the view has drawn in and the sounds are muffled
Even sitting in the doorway snow has blown in and covered the pages, crunched  together  bits , midway between hail and fluff. Snow moves sideways and the branches of the trees which stayed dark yesterday
are being outlined with white today.
What other colours than white -
copper brown at the bottom of the young oak
sledge green of the reeds around the pond
black dead leaves on nettles
a slumped green of grass, almost a shadow green one knows it should be green yet coated with white it loses particularity
Our footsteps are already filling up, left behind two minutes ago.
Another covering of snow hits the page, a breath filled with tickles, flicks and moisture.

snow about to fall

December 17

late sun

December 14

A squirrel skimming along a branch of the oak
Birds glueing on and off trees
The clouds curve into the earth
Late sun glows the sky
The pit of dew in the long grass
In absolute still
Of sundown

December 9

I took the seeds the nine dancers had gathered from all over the site on our Dancers in Landscape day, and buried them near the oak tree with the bird box, marked the spot with a forked branch. I photographed the white sheets of people in their various states of weather evolvement. I covered the hole made by the animal in the floorboards.

December 9

ice still thick and unmoving on pond
snow in lower field
hard ground
to plant our ritual seeds
sun floods in
lightening the wintering

Something has moved into the barn!
neat bits of straw parquet the brick threshold
lumps of earth and eaten mud ricochet across the planks
there is a hole  - edges worn and growing
bits of acorn crunch underneath
Something needs to be done!

December 3

December 3