Indian Summer 
Whatever the truth about global warming, first hand experience tells me that the individual character of each of the year’s weather seasons is becoming less and less distinct.
Not only are the cycles of summer’s rise and winter’s drop in temperature being evened out but there are also ‘unseasonal’ bouts of weather simply where they shouldn’t be in the calendar- snows at Easter, frosts in May and ‘indian summers’ (hitherto by common consent confined to October) curling into November and December.
It’s as though Mother Earth, realising how detached we have become from the natural pattern of living with the rhythm and necessities of the seasons, has given up on them herself. English people under thirty consistently dress as though they are actually walking about in Los Angeles and birdlife adapts to city lighting throughout the night with the dawn chorus being triggered as street lamps come on.
So if your eye is caught by a painting whose composition includes snow capped hills, bare trees, and a couple with a significant lack of clothing, then you’ll know it’s an image from the early 21st century in England
panels initially show just the shadow cast by the protagonist onto the inhabitants and scene of the village. Only at the close is he actually shown, and then in the crucial landscape that made him what he is. These panels (hand rendered watercolours) were assembled into page compositions with text all in Photoshop.
latently violent. And there I was thinking I had come up with quite a striking little number, a little bleak perhaps, but laced with some bitter chuckles.
This is a ‘Baffledman’ feature for more go to Homepage and click on ’strips and stories’