The sky is clearer but storms are waiting in the wings, brewing on the horizon. They’re staying around the edges today, leaving the rest of the sky a deep rich blue. Pheasants are chasing each other around the studio field, male chasing male, female chasing male.
Farm machinery is ratcheting and grinding away in the background. The fields are being turned and mud is being spread down the roadways. It feels energetic in the landscape, the sky is unpredictable and brooding and I’m looking forward to what it might throw at me as I walk home. I need this fresh air on my skin, I’ve been sucked into winter hibernation.
The clear sky has misled me as I walk back. As I look ahead of me to the golden colours of the marsh, storm clouds have crept up behind, swallowing the light and dumping a load. From sun to shower in no time at all, it’s pushed its way in, forced me to stand in forest near Walsey hills under the dripping trees. The wind has picked up and pressed the rain in, through to my knees and washed down my face. I feel fresh and cleansed, and the mud on the coast road is being washed away and chased in rivulets into the gutter.