Saturday 9th July, 2022
I had had a late night, an emergency meant not retiring until the small hours, consequently a late walkies, on a very hot day, found us passing along a darkcool Levitt Lane. Emerging into the open, the huge field of Linseed on our right waved in the gentle breeze. The flowers replaced by pea pod sized, pale green seedheads. Fallen sky blue petals littered the ground, evidence of a missed opportunity, I was too slow to walk on the sky, to see the magical sea, to see the ripples of hope. Squeezing the pea sized heads produced lots of liquid and I remembered Don, who knew a friend, a friend who drowned in a linseed clamp, Don hated the stuff. At the fringes of the crop chamomile like daisy flowers grew, a flash of red indicated a lone poppy and, in amongst the crop, clusters of barley stood tall, convicts seeking to escape. The car took me to Wetwang then to Fridaythorpe and the dew pond at the Thixendale path. I got out of the chill, into the heat of the day and looked at the diminishing pond. It was clearer today, I could see late developing tadpoles and broad-bodied chasers. Then a lovely sight, a lone pair of bright blue, glowing damsel flies, in union, depositing eggs in the pond. A sheep slowly walks to the pond. It delicately interrogates the chalky stone pond edging and lowers its mouth to the water, but simply kisses it and moves further round the pond before repeating its action. It moves for the third time, now it drops to its front knees and drinks. The horses walk over to see me and I tickle their noses giving them some fresh grass. The sheep, behind them now, walks to the fresh water galvanised trough, and yes, it drinks some more. Two large lambs decide to feed simultaneously which results in the mother being lifted off her feet. It is so hot. I decide to drive to Kirby Underdale and stop near Painsthorpe looking across the undulating fields towards the distant heat haze hidden Pennines. A farm makes a pleasing subject to include and I start to paint. As I am finishing a distant movement in the sky makes me look, it is a para-foil and hanging below is a pilot. It drifts slowly and completes the picture. The tall grasses are alive with bright, small skippers and dull meadow browns, as well as flashes of blue cranesbill and tall rusty docks. A local man informs me of another view which he thinks is even better. I sorta know about it but have never been to the spot he mentions therefore I will make this a priority. He also describes another local view which sounds very interesting. I love talking to local people, especially farmers who work so hard at this time of year. I fed George and packed up only to find the car would not start. I called the AA and the problem was the battery. So this was an easy fix.
12x10 inch oil on canvas board.....POA....... PM me for details.
1 comment:
Beautiful painting and beautiful words. John, you are a very talented fellow. Marti
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