Welcome to Harvest Moon, a place where the creatures and landscapes of my imagination take form and meet the world. Nestled in beneath the wild craggy tors of Dartmoor inspiration comes on chilly winds from moonlit landscapes of other realms which share this rugged, ancient land of gorse and granite. Living here I sometimes feel on a bridge between worlds and ages as the land speaks from spluttering streams and wind-beaten tors, telling stories of folk and beast, but only in snatches before the endings are whipped away down the valley with the broad river and out to sea. So here I will share these stories and characters and they can dwell in your own imagination, continuing their stories with infinite outcomes. This is how they live, enjoy them!

Thursday, 31 March 2011

fish & ice-cream...

As I lie in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, feeling the cold dampness of the spring earth beneath me, I hear the familiar echoing call of a gull riding the thermals in the deep blue above me. Their call speaks of the vastness of the sky and the ocean and transports me to the seaside of my childhood in Hampshire; catching the gooey drips from my ice-cream cone and tasting the salt of the sea on my fingers. I hear the tingling of rigging cables against aluminium masts; the flapping of faded bunting in pub gardens and the smell of fish and chips drifting from the promenade. Sitting on the harbour wall swinging my flip-flops above the deep green water I would stare out at the unending briney landscape, past the dinghies and the cargo ships to the hazy horizon. Contemplating the distances and depths my eyes are suddenly pulled upwards by the insistant cries of herring gulls. I look up to see them, wings outstretched and wedge feet dangling from their rounded bodies. They seemed to bob about in the sky as though they were on the water....a hypnotic dance on invisible currents...captivated, I am off guard....there goes my ice-cream...then my flip flops....they work in teams, sea gulls.

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