A suntrap of boulders and stones, with red Caerfai rock and a lazy sea. In the distance, Skomer Island.
I walked the beach, searching for the place.
Where the fresh meets salt I placed the stone, at tide’s edge. And the tide was going out.
In twelve hours time or before it will be gone, taken by human hand or the sea’s, it matters not. Moongold and stone.
Back home now and more stones wait for freedom, a return to the wild. I want to paint them at the beaches also, carrying gold to meet the stones, and tools for gilding. This one I will find hard to leave. This one is a path. Love the lines of quartz across the stone.
I painted blackbirds from a piece unused from The Lost Words. A nest in a bowl that never held bramble berries. Almost finished, not quite. And still tangling threads for a new short novel.
But meanwhile I do love walking with stones. They show me the way to a peaceful mind.