Still water reflections always make me think about the 'other side', I love the short- lived, tree reflecting pools in the woodland near me, there's definitely another world through there - maybe I was more deeply affected by "The Magician's Nephew", in which the way to Narnia is through a pool, than I ever realised! At present here in Oxfordshire the skies are clear, it's much, much colder than usual and dusky skies are petrol blue fading to a pale horizon, magical colours.
Yes, I think CS Lewis was very aware of these tales and drew from them in his books. I loved the Narnia books as a child so yes, maybe they left an imprint on me too!
It brought telling stories round the hearth to mind.
I particularly loved the expression 'water music'.
We have had some deep sea mists rolling inland, and then last night at dusk the view over towards Deal across Pegwell bay was crystal clear, lit by the setting sun, amazing deep shades of wintery dark blue across the sea.
There really is something magical about winter light, isn't there. Especially if we can take time to observe those moments of slow change. Beautiful description, thank you Lorna.
Thank you, Samantha, for focusing my mind on what’s below my feet! Here in Florida we have lots of alligators, often found in or near expanses of silty mud. Denizens of the Underworld as well?
I absolutely loved your musings here Samantha. Reflective water leading to imaginative reflections of ancient people...oh so nice. I'll have to let all this sink in :)
Glad to hear you liked it Jonathan. It just seems to make so much sense, when you see how the winter light glances off the wet ground, that such beliefs would arise at similar latitudes.
Always love your posts, Samantha, shimmering with gentleness and depth as they do. It has been a mixed start to the year here. Like you, I am going gently. Have a lovely weekend. 🖤
I have a perhaps rare reverence for winter - a magical and mystical time where even darkness can shine. This is gorgeous - I really loved reading this. ✨💙✨
Wow this is a stunning piece. I’ve also had a slow start to the year & yet these descriptions of sinking beneath something feel so apt — thank you for writing it.
Such beautiful inquiry Samantha, and it reminded me of how, as a child, I thought a desktop globe, in all its mostly blues, actually represented the sky, and the land I walked up was a flat fur face running through the inside of the globe, the underside, your underworld.
These were perfect words for me today Samantha. I'm working on some drawings around an abandoned coal spoil heap in Fife and a fallen tree that lies on the beach, bleached by the sea and burnt by local youths........black and gold in the sunset. A broken place but full of beauty and promise. Your words always inspire so thank you.
Oh this sounds wonderful Becky. I’ve read that the red slag heaps of Midlothian have become extraordinary oases of biodiversity. Nature remaking itself. I’m currently reading The Mushroom at the end of the World by Anna Tsing. So thought-provoking on how nature can flourish in broken places. Have you read it?
"The door to the otherworld, it seems, slams shut as I get close. It’s not so easy to pass through."
This makes me think of the eye with its rods and cones and how our peripheral vision is less sharp but more sensitive than the center. Our creativity and imagination is accessed more from the side than straight on.
Big kudos on your exciting exhibition Samantha. Notoriety well earned! 👏
In did enjoy reading this first thing this morning. You have water and here we have ice, treacherous underfoot, and cold, clear, frosty days which invite me outside. My walks have been incredibly slow and I confess I’m not looking forward to the inevitable mudfest which will come with our thaw. Living on the edge of the Pentland hills is almost like living in a different country from the city which is a 20 minute bus ride away! Really looking forward to the exhibition. Marked the date in my diary. How exciting for you and well deserved!
I’m a bit envious of your hard frosts though ice is no fun. I love how the Pentland hills feel like you’re far from city bustle and yet it’s so close. I lived near Roslin for a while and grew to love the overlooked beauties of Midlothian 🥰
I know that area well, there are lovely views of the hills, which I have to say looked stunning in their blanket of snow against the clear winter sky today.
Still water reflections always make me think about the 'other side', I love the short- lived, tree reflecting pools in the woodland near me, there's definitely another world through there - maybe I was more deeply affected by "The Magician's Nephew", in which the way to Narnia is through a pool, than I ever realised! At present here in Oxfordshire the skies are clear, it's much, much colder than usual and dusky skies are petrol blue fading to a pale horizon, magical colours.
Yes, I think CS Lewis was very aware of these tales and drew from them in his books. I loved the Narnia books as a child so yes, maybe they left an imprint on me too!
I so enjoyed reading this, thank you Samantha.
It brought telling stories round the hearth to mind.
I particularly loved the expression 'water music'.
We have had some deep sea mists rolling inland, and then last night at dusk the view over towards Deal across Pegwell bay was crystal clear, lit by the setting sun, amazing deep shades of wintery dark blue across the sea.
Magical.
There really is something magical about winter light, isn't there. Especially if we can take time to observe those moments of slow change. Beautiful description, thank you Lorna.
Thank you, Samantha, for focusing my mind on what’s below my feet! Here in Florida we have lots of alligators, often found in or near expanses of silty mud. Denizens of the Underworld as well?
Good lord! I'm glad we don't have to worry about alligators here!
Thank you for helping me feel positive about winter. My mother-in-law loved it. For me, it is super hard. ❤️
We're turning the corner now Etta, hang in there!
Yep! It always makes me happy to track the earlier sunrise and sunset!
We have a whole 30 minutes more daylight now since the Solstice! Not that I’m counting. Much 😂
I absolutely loved your musings here Samantha. Reflective water leading to imaginative reflections of ancient people...oh so nice. I'll have to let all this sink in :)
Thanks
Glad to hear you liked it Jonathan. It just seems to make so much sense, when you see how the winter light glances off the wet ground, that such beliefs would arise at similar latitudes.
Always love your posts, Samantha, shimmering with gentleness and depth as they do. It has been a mixed start to the year here. Like you, I am going gently. Have a lovely weekend. 🖤
I have a perhaps rare reverence for winter - a magical and mystical time where even darkness can shine. This is gorgeous - I really loved reading this. ✨💙✨
I share your reverence for winter Katelyn. You’re right that darkness has its own luminance. Thank you.
Wow this is a stunning piece. I’ve also had a slow start to the year & yet these descriptions of sinking beneath something feel so apt — thank you for writing it.
Thank you Eden. Here’s to slow starts and being gentle with ourselves as we ease through the dark end of the year.
Such beautiful inquiry Samantha, and it reminded me of how, as a child, I thought a desktop globe, in all its mostly blues, actually represented the sky, and the land I walked up was a flat fur face running through the inside of the globe, the underside, your underworld.
What a gloriously imaginative inversion, Kimberly. And huge, huge congratulations on your publishing deal! I can’t wait to read your memoir!
These were perfect words for me today Samantha. I'm working on some drawings around an abandoned coal spoil heap in Fife and a fallen tree that lies on the beach, bleached by the sea and burnt by local youths........black and gold in the sunset. A broken place but full of beauty and promise. Your words always inspire so thank you.
Oh this sounds wonderful Becky. I’ve read that the red slag heaps of Midlothian have become extraordinary oases of biodiversity. Nature remaking itself. I’m currently reading The Mushroom at the end of the World by Anna Tsing. So thought-provoking on how nature can flourish in broken places. Have you read it?
Beautiful. Oh how I hope the hulls of their boats kiss mine as I row...
They keep our little boats afloat…
"The door to the otherworld, it seems, slams shut as I get close. It’s not so easy to pass through."
This makes me think of the eye with its rods and cones and how our peripheral vision is less sharp but more sensitive than the center. Our creativity and imagination is accessed more from the side than straight on.
Big kudos on your exciting exhibition Samantha. Notoriety well earned! 👏
I always enjoy the different slant you offer, Baird, making some new connection I hadn’t thought of. Thank you!
Thanks you I really appreciated this and it came at a time I needed to hear it
I’m so glad to hear this piece was of some service to you Katherine-Alex 🙏
In did enjoy reading this first thing this morning. You have water and here we have ice, treacherous underfoot, and cold, clear, frosty days which invite me outside. My walks have been incredibly slow and I confess I’m not looking forward to the inevitable mudfest which will come with our thaw. Living on the edge of the Pentland hills is almost like living in a different country from the city which is a 20 minute bus ride away! Really looking forward to the exhibition. Marked the date in my diary. How exciting for you and well deserved!
I’m a bit envious of your hard frosts though ice is no fun. I love how the Pentland hills feel like you’re far from city bustle and yet it’s so close. I lived near Roslin for a while and grew to love the overlooked beauties of Midlothian 🥰
I know that area well, there are lovely views of the hills, which I have to say looked stunning in their blanket of snow against the clear winter sky today.
Welcome back to the half awake half light. The paintings look lovely, all wrapped up in their coats and ready to go on their adventure.
Thank you Ronnie. Starting to notice a few minutes more light starting to creep back in at the edges of the day now.