A museum of found objects including discarded wheel rims hung from a river smoothed branch and a wood burner and local signage resting in a nook. Charcoal on paper.
River washed trees and surrounding hills. Watercolour on paper. It was so hot that I had to load the brush heavily with paint. The paint dried on the paper quickly leaving sharp edges.
I wandered lonely as a wasp, who cannot find her feet
For every time she tries to land upon a tasty treat,
Waving hands and tempers flared, thwart her simple plan;
She only wants to settle down and feast upon some jam.