I am reminded by Gina's post here of this drawing - which I offer not because I think it is good, but because it always makes me smile. This is a hawthorn on top of Butser Hill near Petersfield, where I spent the first eight years of my life. I went on a solitary expedition there in my early thirties, re-visiting my childhood and this hill, which always seemed to be a sensed presence in my memories of that time. My first exploration was to the wonderful Iron Age Village nearby. Once that had been experienced, and it is worth experiencing, I duly visited the hill, with hopeful sketchbook, pencils and low fold out camping stool. Found myself a romantically twisted hawthorn, folded out the stool and sat down with serious intent to draw -
upon which, I fell backwards off my serious stool, into the long grass, legs ungracefully tossed in the air!