Oddendale

A grim old day and I’ve felt pretty grumpy. The thought of work tomorrow was oppressive. I did some more painting in the living room and then went for a trudge over at Hardendale and Oddendale. When I took this I was reminded of the film ‘The Field’. I was dogged all the way by the constant roar and endless flicking chain of lights of the sleepless M6 Chinese dragon but that just seemed to accentuate the pervading sense of deep timeless past presence of this area, both geological and human.

When I cleared the window for painting I found a photo of mum and realised it was hard to remember the pre-dementia years and then I had a coffee and picked up the volume of Sorley MacLean that sits on the window shelf. It opened at a page that had had its corner folded to mark the poem on the page ...

It is not the beauty ....

It is not the beauty of your body,
the beauty shaped in your face,
the beauty blinding my eyes
though it has gone beyond thought;
but the beauty of the spirit
that took form in your face,
the beauty of the spirit,
the heart marrow of my love.