Jackie Morris/ website etc
Things I love
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- Artique, Tetbury. A small piece of India in the Cotswold Hills.
- Bears: 30 years of painting them.
- Book List.
- A Hole in the Sky
- East of the Sun, West of the Moon: in between the lines.
- How the Whale Became by Ted Hughes
- I am Cat: Walking through dreams.
- Mrs Noah’s Pockets
- One Cheetah, One Cherry
- Something About a Bear.
- Song of the Golden Hare
- The Cat and the Fiddle
- The Lost Words; A spell of words by Robert MacFarlane.
- The Newborn Child
- The Quiet Music of Gently Falling Snow
- The White Fox
- The Wild Swans
- Walking with Cats ( Working title)
- What’s all the paperboat stuff about? Or: Living with a Playful Heart.
- Books in their natural habitat.
- Day of the Desk.
- Dragons in Torquay Museum
- Exhibitions and Festivals etc.
- Fishing in a river a thousand miles away.
- Mary Bear and Friends.
- My paintings in their natural habitat
- The Brides of Rollrock Island by Margo Lanagan.
- The House of Golden Dreams.
Author Archives: Jackie
Morning sun on the weathervane, peace and a beautiful sky. A mist lay in the dips of the land and birds gathered on wires like music notes. The light as we walked up the lane to the hill top was a soft … Continue reading
Morning was walking with Hannah, The White Cat, Rosie, Ivy and π, over the hill to look at the sea. Hannah is back from the first part of her yoga teacher training course with Cam Yoga, beginning to teach as … Continue reading
Over the past few weeks I have completed the first batch of work for The Lost Words. Working with Robert MacFarlane has been a joy. His emails fall into my inbox like jewels. The last, a photograph of illegible writing … Continue reading
It took seventeen years to make The Quiet Music of Gently Falling Snow. The words are woven around images I painted for Help Musicians, for their Christmas cards over those years. The book is the first in a series of … Continue reading
This is just to let you know that the latest books have arrived at Solva Woollen Mill, well ahead of schedule. Rather than keep them until the book launch we have decided to release them into the wild. So, if … Continue reading
I, π, live by the sea. Coloured like the sunshine, golden rocks and lichen, honey, that is what I am, I, π. I, π, was born on a farm on the side of a hill, a long way away, but … Continue reading
Early morning walking, past Glyn’s where holiday residents snooze. And soon there’s a call and Elmo is coming too, and in the farm yard The White Cat waits. So we, red cat, White Cat, big dog, small, walk up the … Continue reading
We walked to the top of the hill, Ivy, π and the curious pack. The air was so clear. We talked of our dogs, now gone, for we have known each other for longer than the lifetimes of dogs. Beadie, … Continue reading
I had thought to walk to the top of the hill, in the evening sunshine, still warm. And the dogs came too, and larry and Robin. The grass is so green from rainfall at night and the clover scents the … Continue reading