It is the last of the wild places,drifts at the windy corners,a low, far-reaching expanse. The night was so transparent:mud flats and tidal pools;clumps of bushes made black stains;of human inhabitants there are none. Two black Norway spruces,desolate, utterly lonelywhere the road fell away. Greys and blues and soft greens,fresh furrows in the track.Skies are […]
-
Follow
Following
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
writing in north norfolk 