The Avon is full and the sky looks angry but has scudded off inland to rain on another parade, leaving Bath to bask in browns and olives under unexpectedly clear skies.
The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,And were swept up to heaven; where they glowedEach dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed. From off your face, into the winds of winter,The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.Wilfred Owen, ‘Winter Song’A lot of rain lately…
Other dog lovers out there will know that besides fireworks, thunder is the mark of the devil himself for the average anxious hound..We have had both in abundance over the weekend.The wind begun to rock the grassWith threatening tunes and low, –He flung a menace at the earth,A menace at the sky.The leaves unhooked themselves from treesAnd started all abroad;The dust did scoop itself like handsAnd throw away the road …A Thunderstorm by Emily DickinsonPaintings by Rebecca Campbell and Linda Felcey will be on show at the gallery until next Saturday the 11th.
And of course there are the ceramics by Akiko Hirai to enjoy.
Also on show is this burst of autumnal colour by Stewart Edmondson. I swear I walked through that wood only yesterday….
And finally…who has ever heard of it ? Rain from a stick?
‘Up-end the stick and what happens nextis a music that you never would have knownto listen for. In a cactus stalkDownpour, sluice-rush, spillage and backwashcome flowing through. You stand there like a pipebeing played by water, you shake it again lightlyand diminuendo runs through all its scaleslike a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comesa sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;the glitter-drizzle, almost-breaths of air.up-end the stick again. What happens nextis undiminished for having happened once,twice, ten, and thousand times before.who cares if all the music that transpiresis the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?You are like a rich man entering heaventhrough the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.’Seamus Heaney ‘The Rain-Stick’
Thank you as always for reading. Please click on the images above for links to webpages.Contact the gallery by phone or email to purchase, or for any further information.We ship worldwide.Best wishes,Aidan