Waiting An unseen sun still spills its hours, as it passes over our locked down land. Days still flow along empty roads, and night will follow above the street lights. We have all learned to bide our time, and what is time if not waiting. Derek Ross
OK, this is a bit self indulgent, but I have come to enjoy playing around with acrylics. I have had no teaching whatsoever except from Mr YouTube. Given the present circumstances, I found scraping paint on canvas a very mindful practice. Every try was an adventure, but hey!, it was fun and that was enough for me.
Low Tide, Mersehead. The sea has left Only its taste. Salt in the air, Caked-dry lips. The tide has gone, beyond reach, Beyond sight, A soundless distance. All we have Is the wide promise Of a return, Another beginning. Derek Ross.
OLD DYKE, BALLOCH WOOD April followed us through Balloch Wood. We could feel its promise brush against our faces. Spring hung heavy in the dew-filled air mixing with our breath as we walked further in. Then we found it, an old stone dyke, moss covered, tumbled, hidden in the depths. It was going nowhere, encircling nothing, its reason long since lost to us. But it belonged. Somehow, this space was where it dared both time and season. We left, knowing that even spring could not breath life into cold stone. We emerged, confirmed in our belief, that crumbling walls, are the best walls of all. Derek Ross
These are from Sheffield way back in 2012! Got lots of these, so beware!