A Day in Autumn *

Or sitting still

It has been a golden September. There have been days of unsullied sunshine and gentle warmth and, although I haven’t been out quite as often as I had hoped, this day was one to hold dear.

Hours spent outside drawing are often hard won and, while juggling all the other challenges of life, I have learned to become quite single minded in closing the front door, throwing my rucksack in the boot and heading off.

As a consequence, I often arrive at my chosen refuge, feeling unsettled and ill prepared, but I am always eager to begin. I try to decide at the end of my previous trip where I am going to paint next, otherwise precious time is spent wandering about looking for something that ‘sparks’.

After trying many portable chairs, I now use a wonderfully soft and forgiving fishing chair. A little bit cumbersome to carry, though very light, it is easy to settle down into and, most importantly, to get out of after hours of sitting! Usually I dig into my rucksack, spread all around me and get started. But this day was different. The Ling was so peaceful: the fading heather, the vibrant sheep’s sorrel, the squat spreading oaks. It is a landscape barely changed in centuries.

So instead of diving into my drawing, I stopped, looked and listened.

There was not a soul about. A robin sang in a nearby tree ( and I realised how I had missed their song over the summer) and rooks lazily passed overhead. Wood ants milled about my feet and suddenly a jay rattled across the sky, alighted a few feet away to bury an acorns.

My shoulders dropped , my breathing slowed and I absorb my surroundings.

I rarely sit still, other than when I am drawing. Dashing about from one thing to the next, trying to squeeze an extra job in, but this stillness is so precious and fills me up. Taking a few moments to be alive to your surroundings is so easily passed over in your eagerness to get started, to work out your composition and materials, to move on to the next thing. But today, I didn’t do that. I just sat.

Drawing outdoors shouldn’t be just about the drawing, but it should also be about being there, soaking in what you see, what it is that makes this place important to you. And hopefully some of the soaking will find its way on to the page.

Bringing treasure home

I spoke last time of the helpfulness of making written notes next to my sketches, but another way of helping you to retain a sense of the experience is by bringing fragments home. I have always stuffed things in my pockets while out walking and then placed them in a bowl in the hallway as my ever evolving nature table. Below shows how it is a useful way to record colour, here with lichen encrusted twigs, a snippet of grass and heather to remind me of the palette to use in a future painting or to take out in my next trip.

Something to read

Notes from Walnut Tree Farm by Roger Deakin

This might be my favourite book. It has a special resonance, of course, because Roger Deakin lived just five miles away in the village of Mellis, so the places he describes are both familiar and precious to me. But the location isn’t why this book matters, what matters are his observations, month by month, of the countryside where he lives. His descriptions can be quirky and humorous (quite rare in nature writing!) but also precise and enlighening. He is marvellous company and perfect to read while listening to a Suffolk wood (see below!)

Something to listen to

I discovered “Radio Lento” on Twitter/ X and it has now become my favourite way to end the day. There is no talking or adverts, just the sound of nature recorded in different environments, in all weathers. I especially love the watery ones, with the pitter patter of rain or the rush of a Welsh stream, but with over 100 hours to listen to, you can choose your own peaceful place. There are also specially recorded ‘sleep safe’ podcasts where you can drift off with only the hoot of an owl to keep you company.

And finally a poem for National Poetry Day…

*A Day in Autumn

It will not always be like this,

The air windless, a few last

Leaves adding their decoration

To the trees’ shoulders, braiding the cuffs

Of the boughs with gold; a bird preening

In the lawn’s mirror. Having looked up

From the day’s chores, pause a minute,

Let the mind take its photograph

Of the bright scene, something to wear

Against the heart in the long cold.

R.S Thomas

Thank you for reading, and subscribing, and I look forward to seeing you again in a couple of weeks.