We woke this morning to find that during the night a fierce storm had passed through, leaving broken trees around the village. Just when I start thinking that I might be able to give some attention to art I find myself spending the day sawing and clearing fallen branches.
It is, as they say, an ill wind that blows good to nobody. I heard that the daughter of a neighbour makes things with carved wood. I shall draw her attention to the large oak branch that is down in our lane. Oddly, I feel no artistic stirring in response to these dramatic developments.