In my kitchen there are angels by the window, watching, guarding a river of gold.
In my kitchen there are hares.
In the other window there is a dog, sometimes.
Sometimes there are dogs by the fire.
The room is scented with fire and logs and frankincence and cooking and sometimes wet and sandy dogs. And the house is warmed only by the log fire, the radiators running from this via a pump. This year my logs come from East Farm Firewood, from Rams Wood. More of that later.
Meanwhile in the studio I have been painting more for Song of the Golden Hare.
“High on the hill above the wood two hounds, one silver, one black raised their heads to read the wind and caught the scent of gold.”