Fleet Street

trudging through the deep snow
I reach my destination
I sit
back now against the stone escarpment
I unpack my pochade box
my backpack is my studio
You can see
the Fleet Street plant
150 years old
through the arches of the stone bridge
recently restored
Mauve sky
sap green and ochre in the water
punctuated by deep hues of Prussian Blue
It is a time to sit
meditate
sip my tea
take it all in
brush full of paint
the first stroke
we are in the deep of winter
but soon the kayaks will arrive

 


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