Again the sketches seem a thin thing compared to the reality… air full of sound, the endless kittiwake calls and gargling growl of the auks. The grassy tops of the slopes in best flower I’ve seen them with the lollipops of thrift, sizzling yellow of birdsfoot trefoil, tiny spring vetch and thyme. The colour carried on in the lichens and the rock faces themselves.
Always challenging to work alongside others and hold a path…
There were numerous heavy showers, maybe these helped refresh the colours and added to the sense of constant clamouring change.