Alo, alo, alo....Three trees at Burdale, near Thixendale.

  The three trees David Hockney painted near Thixendale.

3rd March 2022.

I started the day by having freshly ground coffee, the noise of the grinder augmented by a boiling kettle wakes George who wanders in, stands motionless and half asleep, waiting to have a head cuddle. He then continues into the breakfast room, sitting on another bed in such a position so as to minimize any excessive effort when being offered toast edges. I rush through breakfast, feed George and then take him for a walk. On the way back I look across ‘Dave’s’ field and see the new bright fresh planked perimeter fence. It marks the outer edge of a new housing development where partly built houses await completion. Then, walking by the tall trees, I look across and see two deer inside the building compound…wait is that a fawn? Hmmnn. … not sure, but happily the deer are calm and walk away towards the site exit. It is so sad to see the wildlife compromised here, water voles, deer, owls, woodpeckers and hedgehogs will soon be a memory. We set off to see a friend who is about to fly to New York, we check dates, telephone numbers and hope everything goes well. After this I drive back home, but find myself heading for the Wolds. Arriving above Thixendale not far from Gills Farm, I set up a new pochard box, I want to test it, but realise I have forgotten to bring along a screwdriver to adjust the torsion hinges. I see hares and red kite but no deer, it is blustery and cold even though the sun is shining.Then I remember Robert Fuller’s Gallery, always a pleasure to visit and to enjoy a hot drink, on the way I stop at the nearby pond and watch newts floating just below the surface, as if suspended, looking like miniature alligators. 

Two heavily laden walkers emerge from the Thixendale valley footpath and I wonder how far they have walked and that they will be glad to set up camp later. 

I visit RF and enjoy a look around the gallery.....with a cup of tea. Afterwards, I set off, passing the new holiday homes at Thixendale,  and park at the place where David Hockney painted the three trees "....near Thixendale".  The wind is funneling down the valley as a wonder about the wisdom of attempting a painting, nevertheless I start and soon I am planning and adjusting the picture. People pass and smile, then a police vehicle passes, stops, reverses and I chat to the officers. Later my friend from Burdale farm stops alongside, it is good to see him again, we talk about this and that before getting on to the problems of rural crime. The picture is almost finished and my hands are very cold, a plane vapour trail suddenly appears so I quickly add it, then one last push and I stop.