sometimes there are moments - and this is one - that echo back for me into the most beautiful and cherished recesses of my stevenchild mind . . . amongst the most magical sensorial imprints from my childhood were the bus rides across the pennines from manchester into yorkshire. crossing the moors under leaden or falling skies, staring through fogged-up windows down steep inclines into valleys dotted with sheep (looking like so many dandelion clocks), and the lonely telegraph poles connecting the disconnected facets of civilization. the distant hills so blue grey and magical. all the while i would be eating spangles - a square hard candy. the image seen here was taken on our way back through the ganaraska forest south of peterborough. sometimes the present echoes the past for me so fully i wonder at the fluidity of memory, the actuality of the moment . . . .