Friday

Fridays are usually soft quiet days for me.  I still have to pick Ellen up from school; not because she is a baby but because we live in a place with no public transport and no pavements.  It has its pros and cons.

In the hours between dropping her off and lunch, I organise for the weekend; actually managing to rally Tess (our old dog) into taking a walk.  I am still not quite healed so stick to the top part of the wood.

I have taken a few photographs of these shaggy ink caps as they line my path along the beech-wood track.

I am working on bringing the hare hill picture together now.  I have a feeling this is going to take a while but also know I have many evenings, sat at the kitchen table where it is warm, radio on, painting.  Not a bad way to spend November evenings.

It is one of those paintings which become a project and one in which I can sometimes lose faith.  When adding detail to certain areas it can detract too much from the rest of the painting and look out of place.  I often feel I have lost my way and sometimes it is through being pig-headed that I carry on; that and  experience.  There is a strange little trip switch deep in my head.  When I am  really just brushing with little or no effect, the switch kicks in and I just know to give up.  It has not happened on this one - yet.

Hare is looking ghoulish with no shine or pupil to the eye and the fur is looking slightly chocolate-box fluffy right now.

I am off to the ballet - The Nutcracker in Bath, tonight.  It is one of those things which, for me, I have heard about and seen sections, but never actually seen properly.  I am therefore looking forward to it.