Refill the well (again and again)

Last Friday after my early morning blog post, Reaching out, I got on a bus and went to the country. My friend and fellow artist Louise Blamire invited me to spend the night, ramble and talk about art.

We walked in the rain by a flowing river and past daffodils and through fields. We shared food, we talked about life, politics and humanity. We talked about families, hard times, dreams and aspirations. We enjoyed the fire and drank tea. We schemed and planned for what will be, what we know and what we don't. We shared our fears and were mirrors for each other.

We slept, we woke and talked some more with our notebooks open and pens at the ready. We walked by another river, through mud and newly green shrubs and blooms. We went for a drive through the hills, through the sheep, through the big cloud filled sky and looked down on the sea. We saw old cars as they rallied along the hills. There were piles of drawings, materials, art on every wall. Raw beauty was everywhere, life was being lived in East Lothian and for that night and the next day I lived it too and I wore the wet socks, muddy shoes and jeans to prove it.

I took the photographs of the stolen light coming in at angles on the cottage. I felt my weight in every step in the mud. I felt the sunshine on my back and the rain on my face.

I relished my time there and on the bus to and from. I refilled my well. It was required living. Thanks, Lou.

Now, let's see what I do with it all...