How I miss Ludlow. A brace of pheasants in the feather for less than a fiver – hanging from one of Ludlow's five local butchers. Each dwelling in a building made by medieval tradesmen. Cobblestones, of course, usually damp, with overhanging late-medieval timbers...
Birch smells amazing while it's still green. It is easier than I thought, shaping half a log into a bowl. It is harder than I thought possible to finish a simple curve with a straight blade. Countless generations have carved necessary items out of wood. It was the...
This spring has been an interesting season. Often, I put words up on a screen to make my thoughts make sense. If I can organise the paragraphs into something resembling a coherent piece of writing, maybe my own plans and priorities can follow. I use a tumblr blog for...