
The moon over Trevelyan Hall and Pencaitland SPAR.

The moon over Trevelyan Hall and Pencaitland SPAR.

Rustling underfoot.

Flowers by streetlight.

In Tyninghame Smiddy.

The light above my restaurant table.

On a cold Autumn evening.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.
– Laurence Binyon

Lit up at night.

My neighbour’s gate.

Snuggle up.