Tag Archives: trees

21st November 2013 – woodland

Posted on November 22, 2013 by Liz Terry

High on the crest of a hill, the dusky sun catches it, turning the trees into burning fire-brands. Colours flash as the breeze catches them. Red, yellow, brown, gold; each one flickering in its own spotlight.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged breeze, brown, burning, colours, crest, dusky, fire-brands, flash, flickering, gold, hill, red, spotlight, sun, trees, woodland. high, yellow | Leave a comment

17th November 2013 – Christmas trees

Posted on November 18, 2013 by Liz Terry

Green and spiky, trapped in pots wrapped with shiny, red paper. Their greenery is forced, like the smiles of the shoppers as they are reminded of the festive season to come.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Christmas, christmas trees, festive season, forced, greenery, paper, pots, red, shiny, shoppers, smiles, trapped, trees, wrapped | Leave a comment

4th November 2013 – sunlight

Posted on November 5, 2013 by Liz Terry

A pale imitation of its summer self, it falls on trees and grass in faded rays. Its brightness is subdued, a watery yellow which gives only soft warmth. Yet flowers glow beneath its gentle touch, a last vestige of the … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged brightness, extinguished, faded, flowers, gentle, glow, grass, imitation, pale, rays, season, soft, subdued, summer, sunlight, touch, trees, vestige, warmth, watery, yellow | Leave a comment

11th September 2013 – sky

Posted on September 12, 2013 by Liz Terry

It begins to darken from the horizon, like a thick, black quilt. Wispy clouds graze it with flaming orange-pink scratches. Trees are silhouetted against its fading brightness. The early autumn dusk has come to soon, a beautiful reminder that winter … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Autumn, beautiful, black, brightness, darken, dusk, fading, flaming, graze, horizon, orange-pink, quilt, scratches, silhouetted, sky, trees, winter, wispy clouds | Leave a comment

9th July 2013 – seagull

Posted on July 10, 2013 by Liz Terry

Flying low over the trees, calling out with its distinctive caw. The setting sun catches its belly. It floats past, wings outstretched, the jumbo jet of the feathered world.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged belly, caw, distinctive, feathered world, floats, flying, jumbo jet, seagull, setting sun, trees, wings outstretched | Leave a comment

18th May 2013 – canal

Posted on May 18, 2013 by Liz Terry

The water is still, disturbed only by small wind eddies. The trees’ summer leaves reflect in its mirror-like surface. A swan swims serenely by, four cygnets staying close as she dips her head to feed.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged canal, cygnets, eddies, mirror-like surface, summer leaves, swan, trees, water, wind | Leave a comment

11th April 2013 – roofs

Posted on April 12, 2013 by Liz Terry

They pitch all around me, monochrome, only distinguishable by the pattern of moss that covers them. Around them, everything moves. Branches sway in the gentle wind. Birds perch, then take off again, busily. A pair of magpies build a nest. … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged birds, life, magpies, monochrome, nest, pitch, roofs, static, sway, trees, triangles, wind | Leave a comment

2nd March 2013 – dusk

Posted on March 3, 2013 by Liz Terry

The sky is filled with a soup of colour. Cream, orange, pink, purple, blue, white – all are present in this sharpening light. Silhouettes of trees and houses seem carved into it, one dimensional. Yet they strike the eye so … Continue reading →

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged colour, dusk, eye, houses, looking, sharpening light, sky, striking, trees | Leave a comment

8th February 2013 – backs of houses

Posted on February 9, 2013 by Liz Terry

Neat paving or lawn, manicured trees and beautiful borders. Piles of rubbish, discarded toys and patches of brambles. Cheerful washing lines, bright colours flashing past like flags. Glimpsed from a speeding train, a window into private back garden worlds.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged back gardens, borders, brambles, lawn, paving, rubbish, toys, train, trees, washing | Leave a comment

6th February 2013 – sunset

Posted on February 7, 2013 by Liz Terry

Skeletal winter trees against a darkening sky. Their topmost branches seem dipped with bright, rust-orange light, uniform and unmoving. The sun leaves us with a final flourish, as it moves on to start again, a world away.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged branches, darkening sky, rust-orange light, skeletal, sun, sunset, trees, winter, world | Leave a comment