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Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Wales Album: visiting Meri Wells, part three

The owner of a crafts gallery in North Carolina has prodded me to get moving on the Wales Album; she wants to see more pottery... So off we go to Wales once more. Be sure and click to make the images larger if you want to catch Jack in the garden or glimpse poppies and bluebells.

Meri Wells with me and cups and the feet of Peter Wakelin.
Clive Hicks-Jenkins behind my little camera.
The barn ruins in the background...

"We can't all be Mad Hatters" --Wizard Howl
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--
    from Robert Louis Stevenson, "The Swing,"
       from A Child's Garden of Verses

Peter's feet again leading the way over a slope
decked out in English bluebells and mango-colored
and orange Welsh poppies.

A Meri-flock a-flying--

A rabbit friend, come to hide in the bracken
and munch on bluebells and poppies
and forget-me-nots.


  1. Such amazing work, it really stirs my heart! I always say that art that excites (even negatively though not in this case) is successful. Such a lovely place to work in and to display one's work. How lucky and memorable for you to have met this artist along with Clive and all the others.

  2. Yes, I feel lucky (despite Sunday's flood! ack! old house strikes again!) to have gone and met so many interesting people and seen such lovely artwork. Quite, quite satisfied.

  3. I tried twice to post a comment, saying mostly how idyllic these places are, and how I'd like to pick up and go too!

  4. I want that swing! And the rabbit is stuck in my mind as Bambi !
    Love the art - and the art of living in Wales has clearly been achieved well! Beautiful setting.

  5. To have the swing, you'd have to have the slope and the bluebells and the Welsh poppies and the mad hare...

  6. Oh, I missed Robbi--sorry about that. Must have been something amiss because I checked SPAM, and there is nothing there.


Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.