Marsh Grass - Mixed media

On any favourite walk there is usually a spot where the walker pauses to rest and to renew acquaintance with the details of the scene - noting even such small sights as where a mole has thrown up a little hill, or where a handful of primroses sparkle in a sheltered corner. Such a place is this among the hills nearby, a dell where the plough does not come because the ground is wet, and a spring emerges gathering marshy waters into a tiny brook. From beneath the dark canopy of an old oak the sweep of the rolling hills at this point of the walk is always a joy to behold.
In midsummer sunshine with the coming harvest filling out the fields, the contrasts between the green marsh meadow and the ochre barley, and between the barley and the forget-me-not blue sky, and between the sky and the dazzling white of the clouds are as sharp as heraldic emblems. Even the clouds barely dim the sun, but swell up with light and glide slowly overhead like luminous galleons on a transparent blue sea.
Mostly the seasons of the English landscape have a pastel harmony, but July can break out into glaring oils. The profusion of growth and the eye-smarting light almost reach the rioting intensity of the tropics. This is the time when each short night is barely able to quench the brightness before the next day dawns.
In this brief sketch I wanted to enjoy midsummer's interplay of aerial and earthly topography, and the glorious colours of July before excessive growth or heat or dry winds bring a note of weariness and raggedness to the August scene. And it is England, after all, so in this picture I think we are about to have a shower, one of those showers on a hot day that fills the air with the scent of rain on warm earth.

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