The Quiet Cow

It's not the cow that moos the loudest...

[thequietcow]

‘Spring’ framed

[thequietcow]

‘Yet the divine birthday is here again, and its light contains no variableness, neither shadow of turning. It is the perfect gift for Christmas. We should see by it. It exists for this purpose. Comprehending our childishness, it tolerates the tinsel. We are young now, whatever age we are.’

Ronald Blythe, Word from Wormingford, December 2014

[thequietcow]

It’s that lilac time of year

[thequietcow]

January is a long month….

With the most glorious payoff.

[thequietcow]

‘Where the treetops glisten…’

[thequietcow]

Sunday, in between the rain.

[thequietcow]

After sunset on the first day of December.

[thequietcow]

I was born in the autumn, I birthday in the summer

[thequietcow]

Do you remember September?

[thequietcow]

‘motionless man and sensational insect’

from Ronald Blythe’s ‘Next to Nature’ (September)

[thequietcow]

Summer returned in September…and it was joyous.

[thequietcow]

Sunset on summer - a summer that came early, replete with possibility but then faded all too fast, merging into the muted greys of faceless in-between days.

It’ll be what you make of what’s left that matters.

[thequietcow]

The thrift is spent…

[thequietcow]

Last month it was summer, but summer in June felt like it wasn’t real. Like it was a rehearsal, a run-through, with the real thing (that would last forever) just around the corner. But what if June was all we would have? And we’d been caught unawares, waiting for permission to play.

[thequietcow]

Swimming at sunset on the longest day

[thequietcow]

These are the days…

[thequietcow]

2023 in all its youthful glory - hawthorn, cow parsley, foxglove and strawberry moon.