bottom wibbles
a rising mist
The Goodly Mist
A Workingblog for Rob Sherman
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⚞ nature?

I never saw the beater who brought the pheasants to Cob Cottage and slung them over the wall, like panniers full of cooling lunch. In my mind they are an utter stereotype, one I don’t need to describe to you, one that we can all picture as they disappeared around the keystone of the house […]

That Lashed Moon

My father has had a telescope for many years. It’s an intimidating limb of utter precision, and I think he is terrified by it. Within it are more complex sciences than he, a former organic chemist doctor, has ever performed in his life. A zen machine, it is powered by light, and remains useless without […]

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