56. Trees, Brigs, and Heilan Coos

Excuse the lack of a typewritten page…it has been a long day, and I’m tired. No poem either, but that might be a blessing.

I just want to share a bunch of photos I took on my constitutional dander along the forest path at the back of our house early this morning. I hope you like one, two, or a few of them.

13 thoughts on “56. Trees, Brigs, and Heilan Coos”

  1. Hi Rob. My sister Cath sent this to me. Do you know that when Alison and I got married in 1996, your Rowellan Consort music was played quite a bit at the reception. I had a quick look at some of the blogs – you went to Ireland in 1982 – then started leaning music? We were in Scotland in 1983, and there were so many cousins and not much went into my head about who did what. So much we don’t know about the Scots side of the family – but always intriguing to discover little bits. It ties into the long ago Scots voice of my father. (Which I would love to hear again) Our two boys by the way are both obsessed with the idea of living in cold misty places. Maybe one day we’ll catch up. Best wishes. Kevin.


      1. Beautiful. Trees are magnificent things and the black and white format in winter reveals the complexity of their structures marvelously. It reminds me of Sylvia Plath’s “The Moon and Yew Tree”: “This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary. The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs at my feet as if I were God” Straying a bit off topic. Thanks, Rob.


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