Flying over Newfoundland (the Newfies put the emphasis on the land part of the word) I looked down on countless lakes and forests. Continue reading
Green and cream dappled dots – my newly painted spring scarf drying in the wind.
Quitting the city and the overblown Barbara Cartland pink blossom I drove through the rainy early morning to Rye for a day’s work on the Collier Campbell archive. As I reached the flatlands…. Continue reading