"Since my last excursion with my watercolours the discreet changes in the landscape are visible. Setting up my easel after a rigorous cross country trek to arrive at my chosen spot, I savour the bird song, the buzzing bees ,all in an ambience of tranquillity and a magnificent river view overlooking the river Tormes, Salamanca. The Almond trees, like Japanese prints have as if by magic blossomed, seemingly overnight. The organised clusters intermingled with a sprinkling of Olive trees and then almost dissected by freshly turned furrows, creating patterns on a patchwork of muted hues. The landscape before me clings to the subtle tints of Winter, crimson, purple,violet, olive green and a whole profusion of earthy colours and greys.

The abrupt sound of alarm cries-out, a nearby covey of partridges explode from the undergrowth from a lichen smothered rocky ledge, they twist and turn, accelerating their wingbeats and lazily gliding over a distant hazy slope and lost, leaving me with the glaring sun in my eyes. Glancing around, tell-tale signs of ‘Jabali’(Wildboar) are conspicuous, tuffs of ripped up earth, bigger than your hand and caused by their energetic nocturnal foraging."

A muffed huff and the cracking of dry ‘escobas’(Spanish broom) distract me from my painting and almost meditative zen state, freezing to locate a boars presence, a voice suddenly greets me .Its the village goatherd chaperoning his wandering flock. He joins me sitting down in the warm late afternoon flickering light and watching me paint, offering advice and waving his stick frequently he curses the passing goats, they all respond with a nonchalant bleat and a startled glare.

Reaching to mix yet more olive green, this time with a tad more blue, my painting is almost finished, one ‘encina’(Spanish Oak) more and a step back to check progress. I think its time to call it a day, as the deep shadow slowly creeps across my hillside and the last rays of sun disappear."

Neil Allen,
Spring 2004