Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Point, prints and push.

1. At the first stroke, the sharp new point on my pencil pops and crumbles into a tiny constellation, black on white.

2. Dry morning. No-one in sight. Dew wet footprints on the path get fainter step by step.

3. One last push late at night to finish my day's proofreading.

Bees, tortoise shell and catching our attention.

1. Up and down the street lavender bushes are smutted black with bumble bees. 2. A tortoise shell butterfly is hanging around in the sunshin...