Her labour Salty finger tips cling to aching wrist. Pumping elbows, hang from cliff hanger shoulders. Taut chords strangle the hardened neck. Delivering a weighty head through brain blowing tedium. Leaves tangle and soak her skin. Cool on cheeks, all hot from google alerts. Eyeballs . . .
Liking and friending. Linking and posting. Scraping the barrel. Tidying and preening, until every box is ticked. The laptop to the flickering screen. The keyboard to the twitter machine. Perfectly formed in 140 characters or less. With pink highlights and lipstick to match. Colour synched, paypal'd and photoshopped. With tips, lots of tips. . . .
The word for 2013 is light. It opens my heart to the light in photography which I am learning is the very essence of it; to the lightness of footprint on the planet which I hold dear; and to the light of new possibilities. From Monday morning work gets back to normal and the day job continues to throw up even more . . .
We are busy; the bees, the hoverflies and us. We are buzzing, and flitting and re-focussing our intentions. We are working all hours to keep body and . . .
On a small strip of land between the sea and the wall of the house, this beautiful horse has been casually grazing. He is a constant presence and from the house can be seen peeping up over the stone wall, his dappled coat blending in perfectly with the misty landscape.If ever an animal or a scene was . . .