Friday 28th December


The blue oaks of Suffolk shower leaves on us as we
hunch over steaming mugs – sweet hot chocolate at the
end of a long walk. Mud n dogs, trees festooned with
mistletoe, branches dressed in luminous lichen where
air is acid free. I’ve been photographing oaks out here
for years, some centuries old, some arrived at the end of
their journey, dancing one last twisted silhouette against
a blank & milky sky.
The smell of leaf mould & logged wood, heavy branches
snapped off in storms, chainsawed & stacked, ready
for local fires. The sweet aroma of fresh cut wood, as exciting
as paint, canvas, electricity.

Listening to Penderecki