The Last Hurrah- Great Dixter

 One could almost believe in an eternal autumn.

These gardens show so little sign of decline.

If only I could say the same about myself.
More Pilates and less cake perhaps?

Poppylation explosion

I shook a pepper pot of poppy seeds

into an empty bed last autumn

and forgot about it.

After Eight?

It started with a backlit Cotinus coggygria leaf

eight years ago.

I observe that my postings have declined in number year on year.

At this rate of attrition

(and I admit that my O-level maths is struggling here)

it looks as if there will be a biannual offering in 2017,

of, say, a shadow on the sand at low tide and a backlit autumn leaf,

and then a solitary smokebush leaf in 2018.

This calls for drastic action.
I must search further afield for exciting new material.

For the boys

We made a nostalgia laden trip back to 

a farm in Tuscany.

The roses are still there - just.

The long cedar walks still

criss cross the estate

The bocce ball where we played in the cool shade

of the holm oaks,

 has fallen into disuse.

The river where we swam

and sunbathed on the rocks,

was in full spate after torrential rains.

The olive trees recovered well

after the devastating frost of 1985.

The picnic table at the belvedere 

 looks just the same.

 The views over your shoulder to Siena are timeless.

But it wasn't all about looking back.

We found new things

and went to new places

and maybe one day we could take everyone

and make new memories.

Meh

Drifting through January in a wispy sort of way.

Somewhat like this cloud.

Waiting for a shaft of light to illuminate

 a big (or even a medium-sized) idea.

Trying not to get too greyed out.

(This picture is in unedited glorious Technicolor.)

Trucking on like these purposeful

shingle shifters.

Their work is never done.

The tides rearrange the banks with untiring dedication.

I'm getting some new glasses.

Maybe that will help to refocus things.

How is January looking from where you are standing?

All by ourselves

at the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition.

Jim Lambie's Zobop zippy floor on the stairs up to the exhibition.

My senses are reeling already.

A last minute staff meeting.

Have they got used to the pink walls?

I want to come back to the picture on the left later.

Someone is ahead of me.

Two Sisters - William Bowyer

and to the left of them Afternoon Skaters - Bill Jacklin RA.

The Old House Dreams it is Still There-
Peter Messer.

London - The Streets - Kim Rugg.
Of course I checked.

A Humument 1966-2015 -Tom Phillips RA.

A Humument - Bourgeois Pictures.
We have been there;  we have seen bourgeois  pictures

Section model Feed the World Skyfarm - Lord Rogers of Riverside RA

Time Without Title - Andreea Albani.

Now back to Red Studio - Rose Hilton.

Rose Hilton is the wife of the artist Roger Hilton.
she talks about his work here :



As his wife she was actively discouraged to paint, 
despite attending the Royal College of Art,
winning the Life Drawing and Painting prize and the
Abbey Minor scholarship to Rome.
She painted a little if he went out but only
 took up her brushes again in earnest after he died in 1975.
This work was submitted in her 84th year.
Do read the article if you have time, but if not
perhaps listen to this.
I found it very moving in the circumstances.