A misty moisty morning today, as we used to say on misty days when I was growing up. I think we got this from Maddy Prior – we often listened to Steelye Span on Saturday mornings, and I recall what was then Maddy’s crystal clear, high, pure voice, with a hint of danger, like a fast rushing mountain stream, singing something like ‘One misty moisty morning when cloudy was the weather, I met a ragged old man all dressed up in leather’. Quite what the ragged old man was up to I don’t remember, but I expect he was up to no good and that Maddy was more than a match for him.
On such mornings the world comes closer, the birds in the garden seem louder, only what is within fifty yards of the cottage is real. The rest a notion of world, something beyond a grey stage hanging at the end of the known universe, which may just be a blank wall, or a fire escape. The far edge of my world is the ash trees at the end of the meadow (long may they continue!) the characteristic droop-uplift of the curvy branches brushing on grey emptiness. All beyond that, fields, roads, the hill towards Coton, unknown and unreal.
Urthona – Buddhism & art 
many years ago,i in urthona magazine,your article on William Blake so captured me that I wrote a comment that you published at the end of the article. It was a great honor! It is still there. As a lifelong artist, trying to bring beauty and sensitivity into the world, I look forward to your e mails and coming magazine. I would be honored if you would look at my site. peremysticart.com All of my best wishes and gratitude to you. Dorothy pere
Many thanks for your kind comments. I enjoyed looking at your lovely painting, RG editor