Lately, in fact, more than lately…we’ve been revelling in the most bizarre weather. Clear, unadulterated skies, dazzling sunshine, porcelain capped mountains and even the occasional snow flurry. Winter in the west is actually, usually wet…utterly wet and by February the island has morphed into a bubbling, frothing broth of mud within which one regularly looses wellies and eventually sanity.
But instead, I have been floating to and from my studio in a reverie of sun addled bliss and I have twice fallen off my bike, in to the verge, for having spent too much time gazing at the blue blue sky and ignoring the grey grey road. My commutes have been consumed with one question…how to describe such blueness? David (shop) and I spent a good few minutes staring at the sky after I had put the question to him. We both agreed that it was exceptionally hard to find words to accurately express such wonder, such freshness, such enormousness. I have decided that staring at these scrumptuous blue skies is the visual equivalent of quenching thirst in a waterfall of clear, sparkling spring water. David doesn’t, but then again, he is colourblind.
In the studio I have been consumed not so much with skies but with the wild flowers, trees and fauna beneath them. This time in the form of a seven blind and window seat commission for the owner of a very grand Yorkshire manor.