Beyond the misty stars

On life

2012-02-12T12:39:00.001Z

Sometimes life is

this constant round

of going to work,

eating

sleeping

washing

watching tv

and then doing it all again.

I was mulling over this the other day

as I drove to work..

same drive,

day in ,

day out

wishing I could be

like Mary Poppins

flying away,

over the rooftops.

Then I realised

how I love the trees

and the lie of the land that I pass

on my daily journey,

I'm thankful that I have a job

and health to do it.

Then another february dawns,

in her glorious new coat of winter whites.

With new eyes,

my spirit revives.

And I am grateful.

When the robin sings

2012-02-05T11:23:00.003Z

I love Sunday mornings.

There's something about padding downstairs

in bare feet

and listening to the quiet.

The quiet of people still dreaming

their dreams of the night.

The small sounds of the kettle boiling.

The coffee percolater making the little hmmph hmmph

noise that I love.

Last week was really difficult.

Sometimes I wonder if I should write

here of the practical things of life,

and I always decide no.

That was not what I started writing for.

Now at my kitchen table I look out across a winter white world.

There's a tiny robin sitting on a tree in the snow.

I think back to the week that has gone.

Hurt. Tears. Loss.

Snap out of it,

I say to myself.

Remember the beatuy of the February stars.

Dream that this week will wrap itself around me

like pale pink orchids.

Remember your topaz eyes

and all I saw there

in that first

look

of

love

Why I've been quiet

2012-01-29T21:55:00.000Z

Finally,

I went and did it.

I bought myself a new laptop.

I didn't buy a mac ( budget wouldn't allow)

but I still have my beloved Ipad :))

My love of words and writing made me.

There may be a few typos and misspells

until I find my way around a new keyboard.

However, here I am itching to get writing again.

Watch this space.

I'm back.

The palest day

2012-01-15T13:10:00.001Z

Today is pale and grey

my thoughts like golden orbs of light

dancing on the kitchen floor.

I am hoping for calm days, crisp and golden…

And I love piles of blankets on the beds

and stacks of books beside them.

I love starry nights and

the taste of coffee and biscuits

I love laughter and kindness

and loathe horrible words.

Today I want to be ,

good and kind and true

Why ,yes

2012-01-12T00:50:00.001Z

Why, yes.

I'm still here.

Once upon a time.

Songs dancing off my quiet shoulders,

wondering how we are

twelve days deep into January already.

These days,

strung together like

a tender necklace of amber

resting on my collarbone.

I long each day for a church on a hill,

whose bell would ring out

this song of my heart.

Reading

Missed connections

Drinking

Coffee way way too late

Wishing

It was easier to blog on an iPad
*shakes fist at sky* :-)

Love, hope

2012-01-01T11:30:00.001Z

Love.

Hope.

Be a light;

use what you've got.

Give it to all around you.

Hand it out,

for all the loveliest of reasons.

is there anything more beautiful

than a generous heart and spirit?

I wish you all a glorious 2012, dears.

This season

2011-12-28T23:11:00.001Z

This soft grey light fools no one.

The wind

is sad and weeping.

I cling with all my might

to these dying days of Christmas.

The Angels came,

you see ~

they kissed my mouth

why,

they filled it with golden songs .

In a dream,

I slipped

a golden bell around your heart

and told you of the unspeakable things.

Snowflakes came,

leaving silent,

silver messages on the window.

A new day,

and there again

this heart

singing the angel songs

Across the winter sea

2011-12-18T10:03:00.001Z

Bells ring through this silent Christmas Sunday .I love those silences,the ones when I canalmost hear my heartbeat. Our hearts this week have beenwrapped in love and carolsand scents that only come,once a year. The trees in the park still skeletal.The sky,dove grey with sprinkles of silver glitter. How calm this day,this day of dreams and you, across a winter sea.

All in the dreaming

2011-12-11T09:21:00.001Z

It was all in the dreaming.

Or that's how five weeks in America seemed.

Now it's home

and back to mittens ,

hot chocolate and

dreams of Christmas.

This house needs cleaned.

There are still suitcases,

lying strewn all over the place~

clothes spilling out of them

like open mouths.

It's as well my mom is in Heaven

or she would be

telling me to tidy up my room.

Carols in the car and on the TV.

Kiddies getting so excited about the man in the red suit.

Looking at the week aheads weather leaves

me feeling rather seasonal.

I'm longing for frosted,

diamond sparkling streets

or even a dusting of icing sugar snow.

I need a reason to make gallons

of hot chocolate for my family.

With just so few days until Christmas,

I still have a fair bit of

shopping, baking, cleaning and fretting to do.

So I know how I will be spending many

of the days that lie ahead.

This, however,

is what I'd like.

Have a wonderful day, everyone.
Drinking

Coconut coffee, the most wonderful coffee I've
ever tasted, bought in Carmel, CA

Reading
A Christmas Carol

On returning

2011-12-05T07:12:00.000Z

Love was our compass

and under the desert moons we drove.

The stitches of life sewed themselves into our dreams

and that is where they stay.

Looking up at the Nevada stars,

I thought of you.

I'm back.

Tender is the heart

2011-11-07T15:40:00.004Z

We awoke to tangerine light

and softly I gathered the diamonds

you scattered for me during the night.

Silently birds of paradise

made crowns of flowers around us.

This America,

this land that once stole my heart

has taken it,

once more.

Tender is the heart~

that does not wish it back.

All the skies of today

2011-10-30T09:20:00.000Z

"Words are the voice of the heart."

~Confucius~

Dears,

life has a habit of getting in

the way of writing.

Soon,

we ~ ( all four of us)

will be aboard a silver bird which will take

us four thousand miles from home.

I am not taking my lap top,

baggage space and weight

are so frugal these days they barely leave

room for an extra toothbrush. :(

In my absence,

I'll be knitting the wind

while filling journal after journal

with those knitted words.

As ever, this week ~

I've fallen in love ( as I do oh ~so ~so~ easily )

with blogs,

coffee freshly ground,

words

written more beautifully than I could want.

And so,

to America!

Under all the skies of today.

Keep well dears,

I'll be back December 5th.

Mood
Exquisitely happy

Drinking
Pumpkin coffee
( well tis Hallowe'en )

Reading
Let this be our secret
by Derek Henderson

Eating
Toast with honey

Shot of the day
taken at Lake George
on our last trip to the States in 2007

On today

2011-10-28T08:56:00.000+01:00

I'm swimming through stars.

In a few days we will be on a plane

that will take me to the country

I dream of living in.

Today I have a much needed day off from work

and I am going to stuff it to the brim

with lovely things.

Go and look at the spires in this

city

piercing the sky.

Let the golden trees

rain their confetti of leaves down on me.

The buskers can weave a ribbon

of music around my walking feet as I drop my

coins at theirs.

I say to this day,

consume me.

As I string it's moments,

like beads.

Song of the willow

2011-10-16T09:19:00.000+01:00

I can almost hear it in my head,

that song of the willow tree.

Well,

not really.

Trees can't sing.

But if they could,

I think the willow tree

would sing the prettiest song.

Those branches,

hanging so daintily,

diffused with blushes of gold.

My mind has been soaked in Autumn this week,

walking alone at night kicking leaves.

Thinking about America

( 17 sleeps to go. :)

Listening to love songs over and over

on my ipod,

enjoying the cool night air that sneaks

in through the attic windows when I least expect it.

Poetry by Robert Frost and books books and books

all over the house.

Baking bread and getting flour on my nose.

With the song of the willow tree,

always,

always

in

my

heart

Sunday morning

2011-10-09T13:36:00.002+01:00

We awake to another grey day.

The wind and raindrops sound muffled.

I am wistful.

Darling October is bringing me

November.

With pumpkins and Guy Fawkes

and toffee apples.

Me?

I'm dreaming of cornflower blue skies

and the golden red of the sun.

Oh,

and while the midnight moon covers the clouds,

I'll dream of you.

I promise.

Smelling the sunset

2011-10-02T10:42:00.001+01:00

It happened again.

That beauty thing.

When words and photography

and a passion for life

swept over me.

It's like being able to smell the sweet

smell of sunset.

I can hear our local church bell ringing,

calling the faithful to prayer.

The day has fractured itself open

and out of it has spilled,

beauty.

All over me, covering me in the scent of cinnamon.

I'm remembering the songs

and that one summer night

as we waited on the tube and explored

the mysteries of love.

In that one, balmy September night,

I looked inside you and knew

I would never find my way home from beauty

again

Things I did this week
( in no particular order)

Joined a book club

Ate
really healthy food

Reading
( for the new book club)
The Help
by
Kathryn Stockett

Watched this

and was overawed.

It's best watched large. :)

Have a happy, creative, beauty filled Sunday, dears.

Tender are the days

2011-09-25T15:21:00.001+01:00

The raindrops

are writing their names

across the attic window.

It's been pouring down all day.

I'm run down.

In need of a holiday.

Guess working all year with only

statutory holidays

has that effect on most people.

Can't believe it's been a year since Italy.

I'm still pining for that country.

Perhaps it's the fact that

the rain

is leaving its stain on my heart,

making it long for sunshine.

The sky is cool,

the colour of slate.

Weekend almost gone.

The scent of apples still,

on the air and in my nose.

Tender,

are

the

days.

Reading
The Crying Tree
by Naseem Rakha

Drinking
Coffee

Mood
Tired

Photo of the day
via my friend, Luke.

Land of the free

2011-09-22T21:29:00.002+01:00

In forty two days,
I'll be here

and here

and of course, here

and here.

Really,

I can't wait.

Roll on America,

land of the free.

Grey Gardens

2011-09-17T10:13:00.003+01:00

I've been here,

all the while.

Once,

I could hardly get through

a day without wanting to update this blog.

Then,

silently

and oh so unexpectedly,

it didn't seem just so important anymore.

My words pour,

still,

into my journal.

These are the things I've been obsessing over lately.

Grey Gardens, the movie.

Both the original and the dramatisation of it.

Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange blew me away.

And blipfoto,

My new photography lust.

Have a great weekend , dears.

( I'll never really leave this place :)

Reading
Wild Swans

Drinking
Coffee

Eating
Brioche roll

Doing
Getting my hair cut later for a night out
with someone I love

Mood
Happy happy happy

A rose by any other name

2011-09-10T22:09:00.004+01:00

The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries;

on the contrary,

a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude,

and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust.

A merging of two people is an impossibility,

and where it seems to exist,

it is a hemming-in,

a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development.

But once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist,

a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them,

if they succeed in loving the expanse between them,

which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole

and before an immense sky.

— Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to a Young Poet)

For Kess, whom I love dearly.

She is getting married soon!

Photo * Shamelessly* yoinked, from here.

Just to be

2011-09-04T13:24:00.000+01:00

August,

I didn't find it easy

to let go of you.

Those cold dark nights

that you open the latch to

don't really

appeal to a heart

that loves sunshine

and the salty smell of the sea.

No,

August ~

I did

not let you go easily

into

the arms of September.

That season

2011-09-02T23:41:00.000+01:00

First words first,

last words,

last.

I walked my usual walk up the hill

from work today

and it was warm.

September warm ,

on my shoulders.

I had errands to do.

Chores that took me past

fields of waving wheat,

waiting for harvest.

The air was fresh,

clean,

with the smell of apples.

Our river~

the colour of slate grey,

and on it..

a solitary rower,

sailing as if he

was rowing through those fields of

stretched,

drying corn.

The sky,

as I watched him disappear into

the golden hues of

Friday night,

became gold.

With the indescribable gold,

of Autumn.

Last words ~::~
thanks blogger,
nice new templates and interface :)) x

The burning cathedral of summer

2011-08-28T12:15:00.002+01:00

"I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips."

~Violette Leduc

I know only part of their stories.

I'm sure though there are hundreds like them.

When the sun goes down at night

behind the glittering windows,

they appear.

Perhaps they are here all day,

actually ~

they are,

and we are surrounded by them.

Today as I walked through our city centre,

I saw them.

One sat sleeping upright on a bench in the heart

of our town.

Another rummaging for thrown away big macs and fries.

The lost, the lonely, the forgotten.

We never have to look very far to find them.

All making up

the

burning cathedral of summer

Reading
The Lincoln Lawyer
by the marvellous John Grisham

Drinking
Lebanese coffee

Listening to
Gold Radio

Dreaming of
our trip to the States

Aspiring to
taking better photographs

Todays post inspired by this movie,
which I watched last night.

When distant footsteps echo

2011-08-24T21:02:00.000+01:00

Our trip the States

seems years away.

When we are on holiday

I write and write and write.

Postcards.

Journals.

( Last trip to America I filled three.)

I take thousands

( yep, you heard right )

of photographs.

Yet..

when I get home

I never know how much of it to share.

How can someone share the deepest

recesses of their heart ?

However,

today I thought of a way I could.

Come November,

I'll tell you.

The more things happen to me,

the more I can't tell

or remember even what they were...

except this.

You said it to me under the Sahara sky.

* You will never be lovelier than you are now.
We will never be here again. *

For me, you had never spoken more elequently
than that moment.

Come, November,
come.

To be elsewhere

2011-08-21T21:32:00.000+01:00

Coincidences,

do you believe in them?

I do.

That coastal cottage

the one where we spent

those idyllic days

listening to the gulls.

Then it was over and you were gone

again

leaving me with a novel to spin

in my heart.

Years have passed

and I can still smell the sea

and the salt

on that bag of chips we shared

looking out at a lost horizon.

When we met again

it was as if

we had never been apart,

in seconds

we knew that years

would never mean anything to us.

All of these times,

the coincidences~

the waiting,

to

be

elsewhere.

Beaded prayer

2011-08-20T17:32:00.000+01:00

Come.

Gather stars with me.

Clasp them tightly to your heart,

which sometimes ~

seems to

be made of lace and shells.

Imagine you hear the sea,

the waves crashing and falling

around our feet

like prayers,

mumbled

and sounding

like a prayer bracelet

held gently in

our hands.

Come gather stars.

Listen,

as I whisper the encore

of our love.

Wildflowers

2011-08-17T19:16:00.001+01:00

Sitting on the pier

looking out at an endless sky.

Her heart ~

a thousand questions deep,

and all of them in capitals.

Then came the autumn of the Tate.

Seeing out

through the wall of glass

beyond the Millennium bridge.

Not seeing,

yet seeing all.

The soft breeze of love

that fell from nowhere.

Nowhere.

That word.

Solitary.

She thought of it.

No,

thought of it often.

As the wildflowers,

bloomed around her feet.

This summer

2011-08-13T10:12:00.002+01:00

This summer of memories.

Behind my eyes I see them all,

and marvel at the complexities of this

heart that beats within.

All the colours,

so many ~

all of them in pastel shades.

Are all memories

the colour of sugared almonds?

Oh and the nostalgia.

For everything that was.

For cold seas and seagulls crying overhead.

Lobster pots at our feet and staring out at a horizion

we thought would never end.

Driving home looking at the cottages

with pretty laced windows and sailing boats,

perched,

not sailing anywhere.

Stuck in an oceanless window forever.

This harmony.

Of memories and seas and you.

Sweet Sunday

2011-08-07T10:09:00.002+01:00

The sun rose quietly

and stole into my

waiting heart.

I listened to the sound of my husband

downstairs making coffee,

the scent

of the beans he was grinding,

wafting upstairs.

Cooler air drifted in

through the attic windows

and I imagined I could smell Autumn.

This has been a wonderful

weekend of lovely things.

Breakfast out yesterday.

Movies we love

and books all over the floor.

Discussions about our trip to America

in 12 weeks time.

Laughter and love

and moons the colour of lemon juice.

I turn my head

imagining,

I can smell new fragile flower scents.

My head full to the brim with beauty ( and to write of it would take forever there is so much of it :)

Nights.

Early morning light.

Small jars, overbrimming with sweetpeas.

Dreamcatchers,

on my bed.

Many weekend hearts, dears.

Reading
All the pretty girls by J. T. Ellison

Eating
Buttered toast and marmalade

Drinking
Breakfast coffee

To do
Order Esta form online for America trip
Frog march my youngest son to get passport photos taken
Tidy this messy house

Favourite beauty to look at today
Here

Loving
jam jars for flowers
or to simply drink iced tea from.

I sing because I'm happy

2011-08-04T21:30:00.001+01:00

After a fairly stormy two weeks

I've decided

it's time to dust myself down

and get on with life.

Tonight when I got in from work,

hot,

sweaty and cranky,

oh yea~ cranky.... :)

I decided I needed a glass of wine

and a large one at that.

I decided to sing to myself in my

best gospel voice

( as loud as I could.)

It's no bad thing we live in a detached house. :)

Crank up the volume,

I thought.

And that's exactly what I did.

Singing

HIS EYE IS ON THE SPARROW!

AND I KNOW HE WATCHES ME!

( repeat at least 17 times)

I SING BECAUSE I'M HAPPY!

I SING BECAUSE I'M FREE!

After several choruses of this,

I felt so much better.

Sometimes,

no one does it as well as Mahalia Jackson.

It's important to listen to her

and give my kids a laugh through my kitchen wall.

Happy Thursday, dears.

Today's image via Google

Love, proved.

2011-08-01T09:26:00.002+01:00

In photographs,

I've always loved what others don't see.

That meaning,

I like to take shots of things

that perhaps others might miss.

Things that make me catch my breath.

Looking up.

Down.
The sky.

Can anyone ever have enough sky?

I love the stories that I see

in others photographs.

Like the person behind the lens.

The smiles at the camera

that capture a moment in time.

Forever.

The happy moments,

caught in a God's eye.

Meantime ~::~
I got sick with food poisoning.

Not reading
as too ill

Eating
urggh, nothing

Drinking
water water water

Mood
wanting to be well again

For two of my favourite photographers go
here and here

Read this two days ago
and cried because I loved it so

“Once upon a time there was a girl I knew, who lived across the street. Brown hair, brown eyes. When she smiled, I smiled. When she cried, I cried. Every single thing that ever happened to me that mattered, in some way had to do with her. That day Winnie and I promised each other that no matter what, that we'd always be together. It was a promise full of passion and truth and wisdom. It was the kind of promise that can only come from the hearts of the very young.”

The Wonder Years

Keep well, and happy dears

Midsummer

2011-07-26T00:02:00.002+01:00

We've been away,

and today took on the shawls of

evening so early

I hardly even noticed.

The world has left me alone,

caught on a silver string

between day and night.

Our house is silent

and there is a feeling of eternity

in the sky.

Life has been anxious,

huge,

these days.

For now,

I'm happy with the nearness of distance.

A rose

on these midsummer nights,

waiting;

under the singing hills.

Reading
All the pretty girls

Drinking
Late night coffee

Feeling sad about
Amy Winehouse's premature death

Feeling happy about
How I am growing as a person

Todays photo mine,
taken as the sun set over the Atlantic.

Saturdays top 10 :

2011-07-16T08:38:00.000+01:00

1. Opening my birthday cards.

2. The music of this girl

3. Being brave

4. Cocktails

5. My new favourite crime writer

6. Laughter

7. A birthday dinner at a lovely restaurant with a funny name

8. Cupcakes from a great bakery

9. Making coffee granitas for guests coming tomorrow.

10. Coffee. Did I say coffee? :))

Summer of twenty eleven

2011-07-13T09:10:00.000+01:00

Isn't life beautiful ?

I'm lying in bed,

listening to Adele on repeat.

Her song,

* Someone like you * is one of the best

songs I've heard this year.

A plane just flew overhead

and I imagine I can smell the sea.

The sounds of summer are all around me

like a string of salty pearls.

Beaches with stones,

those are the ones I like.

Yes,

the ones with sand too,

but the stones speak to me,

I think of the waves that wash over them

year after year.

The years before you or I were here.

And the years after you and I are gone.

What a thought!

All those ocean dreams.

Ebbing and flowing with the tides.

Like life.

Reading
A nurse in time
by Evelyn Prentis

Eating
Yum yums from
Marks and Spencers wonderful Danish counter

Drinking
Coffee

Feeling
emotional, as it's my birthday this week
and my sister hasn't spoken to me in five months :(

Mood
Thoughtful, emotional, pensive

Skin
Sunburned from a long long
walk yesterday, even with factor 15 on!

Things to do
Go bag shopping for a wedding next week

Email Kess ( she who stole my heart :)

Loving
life, with all its mysteries and complexities

Sensing the senses

2011-07-10T11:22:00.001+01:00

It was another lovely week,

pale pink roses blooming in our garden

( the ones we were given as a wedding present

and planted on our * actual * wedding day.)

Coffee cups and books,

and wondering how I can get back here more often.

Yesterday I read

( in open mouthed ) amazement that

90% of people don't actually taste tea or coffee as they drink it.

They sit in coffee shops with their planners and

Moleskines and diaries drinking,

their minds on other things,

and as they drink they swallow

without tasting!

How bizzare,

yet how wonderful.

Every sip of coffee I had yesterday,

I savoured.

Coffee without tasting?

That would be as soft a sound,

as weeping.

Happy Sunday, dears.

Reading
One hundred years of solitude
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Drinking
( I'll let you guess)

Eating
A tiny cherry bakewell tart ( yum)

Dreaming of
our American trip, come November

Wishing
that a home would clean itself

Enjoying
summer sights, and sounds

Loving
Life and laughter

Mood
Really really happy

Waiting sky

2011-07-02T11:54:00.000+01:00

I've been digging for God,

all week.

No,

not in any charitable fashion

( although that would be entirely nice and good)

but digging,

with bloodied hands ~

looking for Him.

If I could,

I'd reach up to the waiting sky

and pull Him down from there.

I need His answers

to fall over me

like

summer

rain.

Wait!

What if God is a woman?

(That's one, of many. )

Reading
Broken angels
by Richard Montanari

Eating
Toast

Drinking
Coffee
( is there any other drink?)

Mood
Philosophical

Todays shot via
somewhere on the net

Weather
Awesome

Things to do
Get a haircut
Go out with fam for coffee and cupcakes
Stop asking God questions :))

Little violets

2011-06-26T23:31:00.000+01:00

Sundays seem to be days

for coming here.

The weeks dance past like

pretty ballerinas

with no thought to how fast they spin,

yet casting little violets around my feet.

I've been reading reams and reams,

poetry,

fiction,

any written word I can get my hands on.

Yesterday I went to Waterstones

and sat for four hours,

yes FOUR hours

that honestly seemed like four seconds.

During that time I wrote pages and

pages in my Moleskine about our

upcoming trip,

top ten things to do,

top ten places to eat,

you get the drift, oui ?

Embroidered in to this there was coffee,

cup after

cup,

sushi by the plate

tennis and cherries

and rumpled sheets and dreams of you.

Joy became a habit.

I adored the noons and the nights,

licking the inside of my mouth,

and wishing,

wishing~

I
could
taste
forever

Reading
The Guardian Angels Journal

Drinking
Cold coffee

Weather
Fantastic

Tired of
Andy Murray hype

Loving
Summer sounds sights and smells

Loving at this exact moment
The sound of my city settling into night

Unfinished art

2011-06-19T23:40:00.000+01:00

I never knew,

but loved you anyway.

The light behind your

quiet eyes,

the way you sat

in the Tate Gallery

with me

and stared at old paintings for hours.

In my heart

I made a space for you

and in that space you came

uncluttered,

uncomplicated,

just loving me.

Now,

when I look in the silvered mirror

you gave me

all
I
can see
is you

Strawberry fields forever

2011-06-16T23:04:00.000+01:00

Around this time of year

I get a little panicky.

I know the 21st of June heralds

the descent into the dark nights of winter

and my spirit

( which is naturally drawn to sunny climes and sunny people)

sinks lower than the Titanic.

I don't have sad,

heck I don't even care for that word!

Add to that the fact that

I seem to have less and less time

for creativity, it makes me a gloomy puss!

So,

tonight I decided enough was enough,

and here I am doing

what I've always loved most.

Writing down my thoughts.

I've also just paid a ridiculous sum of money

for a customised cover for my travel journal

that I intend on taking to America.

( Photos to follow, I'm smitten with it already.)

So...

tonight..........

I've thought about all the sweet things

I've loved over these

last few days

and decided to

be happy

and

stay amazed.

Oh, and

eat strawberries by the box.

They will be gone before we know it.

Happy Thursday, dears.

Reading
Out of Africa

Listening to
Susan Boyle

Drinking
Coffee, yes I know it's way late

Mood
Bright

Salvage Sistas

2011-06-12T13:51:00.002+01:00

Today,

I'd like to send a little

blog love and traffic

the way of my friend Gemma's webpage.

I nursed for Gemma a few years back,

and within two minutes of meeting her

she had my heart.

Rather like Kess.

Over the year we worked together we discovered

many similar loves,

diaries, movies~

good places to eat.

Recently she has started her own webpage about

her love of finding things that she can lovingly restore

or revive.

All of this while being a full time mom to the

gorgeous little Lucia,

who is a * mini me* of Gemma.

So please take a minute to enjoy * Salvage sisters*

written by Gemma and her sister.

You can find them, here.

Happy Sunday , dears.

Reading

*The Secret Scripture*

Listening to

The music of

Hubert Parry

( I've just watched this )

Eating

a lovely boiled egg made by

my darling hubby

Mood

Happy , loving Sundays

June?

2011-06-10T23:32:00.003+01:00

I always wonder where planes

are heading.

On the lovely summer mornings

when it's fine enough to eat

my breakfast on the patio,

I sit very still and watch the 7:15 am plane

fly away.

I've asked summer to return.

June has always been a favourite month of mine.

Perhaps it's because I cling

like crazy to the last long days of light,

not wanting winter to come.

I want no more days of Biblical rain.

After all,

I have planes to watch.

Drinking
Tea

Eating
Nothing as it's rather late

Reading
The House of the Spirits

Mood
Sleepy

Todays shot taken,
by me, at exactly 7:15 am,
this morning.

Todays post prompted by the fact
that my son's American girlfriend ( who is living with us)
has returned to the States for a 12 day visit.
I am missing her more than she knows.

To call it love, shall we?

2011-06-05T13:57:00.000+01:00

Music of last chords

that take my breath away,

pray for me.

Summer rain on the streets of my city

wash me away.

Of a distant person,

one can think

for such a long long time.

All day yesterday

I clung to the words of Kafka,

like a small child holding tightly

to her mother's hand.

In a way

it was marvellous and

hopeful and beautiful and pain all

rolled into one.

Like the calm before a storm.

I sat in our garden

with nothing but the June breeze and

my skin smelling of sunshine.

I was transported away,

away to you,

once more.

Sometimes the beauty of a creative mind

can be a two edged sword,

a poisoned chalice

filled to the brim with thoughts and hopes

and dreams

and desires.

Also

I love you

you

who wrote my name in the sand

and told me that you heard the

sea singing my name to you.

Forgive me forgive me

for daring,

to call it love

Reading
anything and everything I can get my
hands on

Listening to
and loving the sacred music of
M Lauridsen

Drinking
as ever, coffee coffee coffee

Loving
the closing notes of
todays song of the day

Mood
( as you can see )
pondering all and everything, as
I was all over the place yesterday.

Eating ( or about to )
a bag of crisps

Knowing
Everything I experience, is an answer.

Like the light

2011-05-29T10:14:00.001+01:00

These days,

passing by in silent succession

like a grey blue sea.

The songs of Ani DiFranco on repeat.

Last night I was looking out

the window

and as I did

a glass slipped from my hand.

I guess it was because I was dreaming of you.

It shattered into a million tiny pieces.

As they lay on the floor they caught the

only glimpse of sunlight that

arrived yesterday.

The broken pieces were beautiful

catching the rainbow of light.

Today I'll gather peaches

and relive that moment,

that
memory

once

more.

Sometimes broken things

can be

beautiful too

Years of our lives

2011-05-23T23:03:00.000+01:00

“It is never too late to have a happy childhood”

~Tom Robbins~

I could sugar coat it.

My childhood,

that is.

No~one wants to read of sadness and

abuse , do they?

Or do they?

Bookstores across the world have

shelves and shelves

of stories ( gut wrenching, horrible tales)

of miserable childhoods that seem to

appeal to people, they sell so fast.

I could write of endless days at the play park

and swings and

seaside holidays with buckets and spades.

Puppy dogs and gingham ribbons in my hair.

Fact,

those things didn't happen to me.

BUT...

what did happen ~

is that I grew into

( hopefully ) a fairly well adjusted adult.

I married and have two beautiful sons.

I relived a marvellous childhood

through them and with them.

Lego.

Football.

Cartoons.

Bedtime stories and funfairs.

Endless hugs and kisses.

Sand in our toes and sandwiches on days at the beach.

Childhood.

Loved.

Relived.

This post prompted by
The May Challenge, which you can read about
here.

Must you go?

2011-05-22T11:28:00.000+01:00

Last night I slept

the sleep of a hundred year old princess.

My dreams,

full of castles and the north star.

Oh, and small private smiles.

I like that type of smile.

It may be due to the fact that I've been reading

this book

~Must you go? My life with Harold Pinter~

Oh for a love like theirs,

deep into our years.

Of stars, of night

2011-05-17T22:08:00.000+01:00

Busy here,

busy

and getting busier.

School nights are way too short!

Letters to write,

yes I still put pen

to paper!

Projects to finish,

photos that need editing.

All the while,

listening to the

beautiful

haunting

Avo Part.

Sending you many thoughts of love dears.
Joyfully.

Opening myself

2011-05-15T10:55:00.000+01:00

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

~Maya Angelou

Looking back to my 13 year old self,

my 17 year old self,

my 20, 30, year old self.

All those years

slipped through my fingers so quickly.

Yesterday we ate breakfast

at a pretty little cafe

that was bunged to the doors with students,

older women, middle aged men.

Little children.

Us.

All ages of life were there.

We went to hear someone from the association of

Christian doctors and dentists speak.

Over scrambled eggs and deliciously cooked

crispy bacon~

we were asked to write on tiny pages

who we thought we were.

My answers were erratic,

elusive.

I sat and stared at the small piece of white paper.

I pressed the sweet hot coffee

to my lips.

I realised in that moment,

all those years of yearning~

to teach,

to get my degree,

to *be somebody*

have slipped past.

Every day, I have to remind myself

we have a purpose for living.

I'm here for a reason.

I'm just not sure what it is.

Things I remember from the seventies:

Mary Quant eyeshadows

Hotpants :)

Shoes I could barely balance in, let alone walk in

Things I remember from the eighties

Getting married

Starting a family

Princess Diana, her life and her death

Things I remember from the nineties
Not a lot, amazingly, but writing lots of poetry

Things I remember from the noughties
Getting divorced ( ouch ouch ouch )

Getting remarried ( Bliss, bliss, bliss )
Losing my faith
Starting on a new spiritual journey

Movies I've loved during my life and return
to again and again

The Motorcycle diaries
Jean de Florette
Manon des Source
Cinema Paradiso
The sound of Music
Jaws :))
The goodbye girl
Mr Holland's opus

Ok, enough already.

Love letter to you

2011-05-13T20:10:00.000+01:00

Secrets.

All on the bottom of the sea.

Do you hear the wind?

Feel it in your hair?

Soft as a feather,

against the nape of your neck.

The constant murmur,

of a million waves.

In my hands,

I crush a thousand stars.

Secrets.

Summer, forever ago

2011-05-08T13:39:00.000+01:00

Summer is ahead

and I like thinking of all

things pretty, summery and nice.

The lonely cry of gulls,

the smell of salty seaweed.

I love the sea,

and sometimes I feel as though

it courses through my veins

where blood should be.

Summer makes me think of every hotel room

in the world where I have ever been.

Hotels,

little pools of calm.

You can make the rooms messy and

when you come back

they are miraculously clean.

Summer,

a time when love calls you by your name.

Those days,

when the sky

falls into the sea.

Todays photo
the park where I meet my darling every night
and cycle home with him

Reading
JFK
* An unfinished life*

Eating
Cheese on toast

Drinking
coffee

Mood
Loving

Blog template
Time for a change as summer comes.
Clean, simple lines.

Casting the light

2011-05-07T09:21:00.002+01:00

Isn't it wonderful

when we steal days from summer?

I loved it that the bank holidays were kissed

by summers love.

We ate out in our garden

for almost four nights on a row,

even though the evening breeze was strong.

Working in a closed environment makes me

long for fresh air.

On velvet mornings

I take my breakfast outside.

Watching the soft first light of day

pouring over my face

with silver fingers~

fills me with peace.

I picture pale blue and pink orchids

and the strains of the Royal wedding music

come weeping quietly again;

into my waiting,

wanting heart.

Spiritually, the music of the royal wedding

moves me still.

I never was one for the strumming guitars in church.

Give me the strains of someone playing an organ with all

the stops pulled out any day.

May is melting,

melting quietly into June.

My words here,

few and far between.

Nostalgia soaking out of my pores.

Words melting in my hands

as you unbutton my heart,

once more.

How do you do that to me?

Quote of the day
* It's easy to be a writer.* * You just sit down at your desk and bleed.*
Ernest Hemingway

Drinking
Breakfast coffee

Eating
Brioche rolls with honey

Hoping
I can get the player for song of the day to work

Dreaming of
You, always always you.

A whisper in a daydream

2011-05-01T09:21:00.002+01:00

It made my heart happy,

I loved it all.

The sun twinkling through the trees,

the love in their eyes,

that dress ( oh the dress! )

Love,

what have any of us ever done

to deserve you ?

In this time,

you come to us

through the vales of sorrow.

Japan.

Libya.

Recession.

You came,

and on your jewelled wings

you brought the angel music,

the flags fluttering in the breeze~

a young man and woman

who in the midst of millions,

only had eyes for each other.

It was all so real,

you see~

because if we have not love, what are we?

What do we become?

Love.

Tangible.

Soaked into her simple, understated bouquet

so sweet,

I almost imagined the fragrance.

In the middle of it all,

someone I love brought me a few stems of Lily of the Valley,

not knowing.

It filled this heart,

that already ached,

with love.

I loved it all.

Photos

Taken off the telly and photoshopped

Lily of the Valley mine,

at our kitchen window

Drinking

Bittersweet Java coffee

Eating Brioche rolls and marmalade

Reading

Under the Tuscan Sun

Quote of the day

* Keep calm and act like Kate*

Favourite piece of music from the day
as * Song of the Day* today

When a girl came forth

2011-04-26T01:43:00.001+01:00

Springtime and Easter

have needed me.

What of the flowers and skies

and words that expected me to notice them?

The stars have called out my name!

From the past,

memories come waltzing, waltzing.

The strains of the Aria * One fine day *

from Madame Butterfly

coming through an open window

just as I walked by.

Did I ever speak,

or tell you of the night my heart moved,

just listening to it?

Or how that the beauty

and humility of my friend Kess

moves my heart every single day of life?

Singing God, how did you fashion her?

Thank you, thank you, that this is all your design.

It was meant to be.

Even when Spring time and Easter need me.

Reading
The Message

Drinking
A glass of wine ( even though it's really late)

Eating
Nothing ( as it's really late)

Loving
Kess, and the way she humbles me, daily

Mood
Happy, sleepy, loved

Photo via
my friend Helen,
a missionary in Japan

A sword will pierce your own heart

2011-04-23T11:41:00.000+01:00

I often think of Mary.

Especially at Easter time,

and because I'm a mother.

That sword that pierced her heart,

I don't know how she bore it.

She must have been a very special woman,

to bring Jesus to us,

to lose him,

and then to see him rise again.

What a wonder.

Dream a little dream of me

2011-04-18T23:17:00.000+01:00

I had a dream last night

that we

( darling hubby and I ) were

lying in bed asleep,

and on the other side of him

was a kitty cat

fast asleep too.

Weird.

The cat was lying in a human sleeping position.

Needless to say,

this dream weirded me out.

Totally.

Oh,

there was just no photograph

today from my albums

that could possibly match this post.

So I just put up a purdy one instead. :))

On looking back

2011-04-16T09:54:00.002+01:00

We forget so quickly ~

in these days of instant access.

I'm so guilty of this,

demanding total obedience from all electric gadgets,

and online subservience.

Every now and then I'm reminded of it,

by the small still voice within.

The above photos moved me to tears.

They were taken in a school gymnasium

in the tsunami hit town of Natori.

Last night as I rummaged through a box of old

snapshots of my mom, my dad, and other family members

I realised how fleeting,

how fragile this gift we call life is.

The damaged photos in that town in Japan say it all.

Japan, today,

I thought of you.

Photos from the Associated Press archive

Drinking sweet sweet coffee

Eating choccy biccies

Reading * This I believe on love*

Heading to * Our local market *

Cheese fest

2011-04-14T23:14:00.000+01:00

If you like cheese,
try this.

Buy one small camembert

in those pretty little wooden boxes.

( Camembert pongs,
but don't worry it fades when cooked. :)

Go home,

from the cheese shop,

and on the way buy loaves of crusty bread

freshly baked.

Also, stop in at Tescos

( where every little helps)

and buy

a lovely little jar of Jalepenos and a bottle of white wine.

Any type will do.

When you reach your house,

where you live with people who love you,

go in and turn your oven on to 170o

( or if your oven is uber hot, 150~160o.)

Take the lid off the cheese and remove the wrapper.

Gently squeeze the cheese back into the

( pretty) little wooden box,

and make some holes

into which to pour wine.

( I used a chopstick.)

Pour wine into the holes.

Replace the lid and pop in the oven.

Bake for 20 ~25 mins ,

serve with the hot bread ,

freshly buttered

and tiny mountains of jalepenos on top.

You will love me forever. :)

My darling

2011-04-12T22:11:00.000+01:00

She was everything I had imagined,

and so much more.

From the very first day

she left a comment on my blog,

I loved her.

My friend,

Kess.

Tonight, I got to speak with her for the very first time.

Every minute, was precious.

Friendship. Kess. Love shared through words.

She brought me, once again, to God.

Thank you, Kess,

for it all.

( What a lovely chat! Sorry I twittered on so :)
Next time, tell me to shut up!

War and Peace

2011-04-10T10:54:00.001+01:00

This weekend I learned a lot

about Tolstoy.

Guess what?

I like the guy.

I'm not going to run off

and read War and Peace,

or even Anna Karenina.

The movie was great,

and I loved the music.

What has made you happy this weekend, dears?

* Sneaks peak at War & Peace *

Shining, in the distance

2011-04-08T22:45:00.000+01:00

Amazingly,

today,

all I could think about

was

how much I'll miss not being alive.

When I'm dead.

Weird.

What today was like

2011-04-07T21:49:00.002+01:00

Mothering Sunday

2011-04-03T12:26:00.003+01:00

I thank you God for this most amazing day,

for the leaping greenly spirits of trees,

and for the blue dream of sky

and for everything which is natural,

which is infinite, which is yes.

~ e. e. cummings

To my two wonderful sons, and to my adopted American daughter,

thank you.

I love you more than you will ever know.

Free

2011-03-30T00:05:00.000+01:00

I'm loving these brighter nights,

and the freedom of my bike.

Today in work was stressful,

everyone was tense and wound up.

Walking up the hill I couldn't wait to get home

to get my trusty old friend out.

When I pedal you see, I forget about everything.

I feel FREE.

Past the Chinese takeaway

that makes my mouth water

with all the delicious savoury scents,

the park with the bobbing trumpet

headed daffodils.

I pass joggers , people walking their dogs,

friends talking.

The smell of a thousand evening meals being cooked

makes me hungry for mine.

I never cycle the same way twice,

I always change my route,

just in case I miss

some of the sights that live in other roads.

The streets in our God forsaken city really suck.

They are full of pot holes and lumps and bumps.

My pink baseball cap flies off into the wind usually twice each

time I go out.

My bike is old and last night a bit fell off it.

I wobble a lot. ( It's my age, my age :)

Mad dogs come haring down hills ( where do they come from? Eh?)

and try to eat my ankles.

That's when I wobble the most.

Scary things, those mad mutts.

When I get in, usually to a mad kitchen which is filled

with the sounds of my family and the aroma of

a pot of coffee, newly brewed, I breathe.

My mind is clear,

I'm home.

Recently

2011-03-26T07:41:00.001Z

Recently

I've been saddened by world events,

Japan,

New Zealand,

a young girls life savagely

taken from her on the way home

from a night club in England.

All of these events have filled my heart

with a restless helplessness.

Also

I've taken to looking at windows a lot.

And wondering if the people who live behind them

feel the way I do.

About the world,

world events.

Are they just interested in their own lives?

Those people up there,

hidden from the world,

behind the windows?

Sometimes I feel as though my mind is

so stuffed full of

thoughts and questions they will spill out of my ears.

As you can see, by this rather rambling post.

Anyhoo,

here are a few songs for song of the day

that I've been listening to, and enjoying lately~

in my pre~coffee, sleepy Saturday mornings.

Keep well, safe, and happy dears

When

2011-03-24T23:12:00.000Z

When it was day,

I smiled a lot,

and laughed as much.

The evening was so lovely

I got out my bike

( dear old friend, I've neglected you so)

and cycled down to the river.

Three girls were jogging in front of me

with their ponytails bobbing as they ran.

Kinda reminded me of Kess in her marathon

and made me smile.

The river was gentle,

quiet,

just the way I love it.

I listened to the songs of Simon and Garfunkel

on my ipod

and secretly longed that

I might see them play some day.

Before it's night for me. Or them. :))

When it was evening,

I gazed at the vastness of Heaven,

the sparkling stars

and wished I could sprinkle them across

my skin,

like fairy dust.

Or weave them into my hair.

When it was day,

when it was night.

Photo,
river flowers

Song on my ipod at the moment
Emmy Lou Harris
* Sweet dreams of you*

Heart feelings
A little sad, because of a broken relationship
with a close family member

Camera
Sony cybershot

Drinking
getting cold coffee

Mood
Thoughtful

Word love

2011-03-20T11:28:00.000Z

The words,

their words,

filled these fleeting days~

Yeats and Cummings

and moons the size of

copper coins.

And every bit as bright.

Sitting at the waves

I watched a little girl play hopscotch

and thought back to

my girlhood

which seemed only like a blink ago.

All the words are crowding into my mind again

words like boater hats and

old dusty poetry books~

daisies growing through the floorboards.

I hope they never end.

I love them
and only ever want to
speak of love.

WB. Yes, him.

2011-03-19T23:13:00.001Z

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Excerpt from * The Stolen Child *

by WB Yeats.

Today, I saw every place he spoke of,

and felt his words soak under my skin.

I reminded myself to speak only

( if just for a little while )

in prayers.

The gentle hours and light,

did all the rest.

Reading * Selected poems of WB Yeats

On holiday in * Southern Ireland *

Drinking * White wine for our anniversary*

Mood * Very much in love *

People I am missing very much

* RW* and * RT *

Anniversarys

2011-03-18T08:36:00.001Z

I've a small pink suitcase to pack,

and empty pockets to stuff memories in to.

The endless need to travel the world

that lies quietly in my heart

might just be satiated.

Even though we are only travelling

one hundred miles.

Last night I lay and watched the city lights

blinking brightly from the attic window.

They painted neon colours in my mind.

When sleep came, I dreamed of Kess ~ that she

had joined the Amish.

When I woke, I wondered why.

Now, the sky is marbled with blue,

and

a small pink suitcase,

awaits.

Drinking
Strong coffee

Reading
Between a rock and a hard place
by Aron Ralston

Eating
A hot cross bun

Mood
Very happy

Song of the day isn't working :(
I think it may be due to the fact that
apple are having issues with You tube and Adobe
flash player, but what would I know?
Pfft.
Will get a new player, when I get back.
I miss the song of the day, boo.

Monday places

2011-03-14T09:19:00.000Z

The places to hide my

thoughts in.

A list.

on the under side of a shell:

( the one the sun shines through )

A shoebox under my bed:

in my jewellery box:

inside a tiny toadstool:

between your heart and mine:

just beneath the salty waves:

in memories:

or just in plain sight for all to see.

This option,

only for the brave of heart.

March

2011-03-12T07:38:00.000Z

It's that place,

the one in between.

Sometimes,

blue skies with aeroplane vapour trails

taking people to destinations all around the world.

Then,

the grey,

stormy sleet ~

while all the while

daffodils stay sitting in florists windows.

Bunny rabbits

and eggs on every counter,

and shy little snowdrops

peeking their heads above the reluctant soil.

Just.

One minute it's soft downy snugglie blankies

and the next not taking a coat to work.

I am loving this in-between place,

it's

like dusk and dawn.

Magic Lantern

2011-03-09T21:09:00.000Z

Sometimes I find it impossible

to say exactly what I mean.

Remember those old magic lanterns?

The ones that made patterns on a screen?

They should tell the story on the wall.

I look towards the window,

and say,

that is not it,

at all.

That is not what I meant,

at all.

Thoughts on my
days at the back of my English class,
looking with adoration in my teenage eyes
at my English teacher,
who read to us from Ts Eliot.

Drinking
sneaky glass of wine

Eating
nowt

Listening to
James Morrison

Mood
Restful

Little snapshots

2011-03-06T13:37:00.000Z

Taking pictures

makes the world more beautiful to me.

Those tiny ephemeral moments,

frozen in a second,

forever.

Life has been so strange lately,

I had a falling out with a family member

which turned out to be an Epiphany

for my wounded heart.

I found a freedom from a yoke that

has bound me for almost 11 years now,

and with the searing wounds that scratched like

thorns

came a realisation that I really don't have

to be perfect all the time.

That constant striving to be all to everyone

has left me gasping for breath

and with no memory of who I really am.

Isn't that sad and rather melancholy?

So it's time to empty those rooms at last,

to stop the quest and to look forward with longing~

to the future.

With this freedom exciting happenings have come~

things I could have only dreamed of,

once.

We are planning two road trips!

One to the South End of the island of Ireland

where the houses are painted the colour of

pretty seashells,

and the other,

5,175 miles from where we live.

I've taken those faded, wilting roses,

and filled the jar with fresh ones.

It feels nice.

Drinking
Hot sweet tea

Reading
The Bible

Listening to 8tracks

Mood
Peaceful

Todays photos
Kinsale, taken on a previous road trip in 2002,

and newly placed roses,
on my nightstand in our attic bedroom, taken one
minute ago, with my iphone.

Happy Sunday all x

And then, I remembered spring

2011-02-24T23:14:00.000Z

Fingers touching the window glass.

Waiting for the dog days of summer

so I can gather peaches,

in a pretty gingham basket.

Meanwhile,

the February night

whirls about the sky in the moonlight.

Hello Wednesday

2011-02-23T22:08:00.000Z

Pieces of light

were caught on my drive home tonight

after a day and

( last night, oh last night)

coming as close to perfect

as any day and night could.

Each moment of it,

a place I'd never been.

My heart is not down on any map, you see;

it never has and it never will be.

True places never are.

I took this day,

oh yes I took it,

and made it my morning tide painting.

Sometimes we have to look down,

to see the flowers,

scattered around our feet.

Reading
Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks

Drinking
coffee

Listening to
*Nobody but you * on repeat
as someone gave it to me as my song of the month
* Shucks*

Mood
Ecstatic

On a great wall

2011-02-22T21:55:00.001Z

It's no secret that I love

Chinese culture.

Someone dear to me,

gave me that love,

like a tender,

precious flower,

and

it's been pressed against my heart ever since.

Today,

the beauty came in my thoughts.

Sometimes I have to close the world out

with it.

The beauty, that is.

The world,

cloaked in loveliness and yet so much ugliness.

A strange paradox.

The music of Schindlers list, for instance as I drove

to work making my heart ache at the memory of that movie,

it brought a lump to my throat as it always does.

Then, this music that is

the song of today.

It made me think of Chinese friends here

and those who aren't .

I miss one in particular, very much.

Let there be diamonds under my feet all day,

I thought~

as I walked the corridors of work.

That way,

some beauty will soak into my toes.

Movie about to watch
* The painted veil*

Reading
The painted veil by
W. Somerset Maugham

Longing for
A cup of cinnamon tea

Mood
Peaceful, sleepy

Hold on to the night

2011-02-21T21:54:00.000Z

Looking up

at the moons yellow glow

I wish this night was longer.

I want the beauty to last.

Shades of you

2011-02-20T13:05:00.000Z

Here I am,

drinking in tiny droplets of light,

listening again,

to ELH, and wondering

why I have had this song on repeat for two days.

The slate grey sky drew the dawn in,

silently,

making a promise of love to it.

Doesn't it do the heart good to open

wide a window and let the gentle

Sunday morning breeze in?

Today is a day for a seaside visit.

We will leave soon and go to where the mountains are.

It will do the heart good to walk by the sea

because,

you see,

this winter still breathes.

It's a harsh time of year,

winter.

When the heart is longing for sun.

What happens deep within us

is worthy of our deep love.

Do you not think so?

Today I want to utter you,

and you alone.

To portray in you shades of green and gold.

Ah

but I know, I know;

there is no image I would dream up

that you,

your presence with me,

would not eclipse.

I carry your heart with me

I carry it,

in my heart.

Drinking
orange soda

Eating
a small apple

Dreaming of
our day out

Not giving apologies for keeping
song of the day the same as yesterday

Adding to my wish list
the Chinese lantern Thomas Sabo charm

Loving life
with all it's complexities

Slipping on violets

2011-02-19T10:01:00.000Z

It's as though this day

was born to be beautiful.

I'm listening to song of the day

on repeat

as I cannot fathom why I've fallen

head over heels in love with the voice

of Emmy Lou Harris.

I just know her voice makes me feel

as though I'm slipping on violets.

The past,

the memories, all tangled today

around the shoelaces of my heart.

Oh,

and what of those stars you left on my pillow?

What ,

what of those?

Anew

2011-02-18T22:50:00.000Z

How does the week go,

silently,

so quickly

under a candle glow?

Across the marble floors

of the world,

winter is waiting to embrace the spring

with open arms.

In this home I sleep,

I dream.

My dreams are swept up

by you,

you~

the nightwatchman

of my life.

You sweep them up in your pocket

as the dawn breaks,

anew.

Moments and happy little love songs

2011-02-16T22:26:00.000Z

The red roses have not faded yet.

Not even a little shrivel around the edges.

Even on these crazy cold

February days.

Days when the wind slices through your coat.

I miss the open fire from our old house.

Oh the nights I spent there,

my dreams like pockets,

stretching.

Still,

I loved moments of today.

The laughter shared.

The never ending song of love that plays in my head

when I think of you.

I liked the light,

the sound of my friend in work

laughing at my daft jokes.

They way when she smiles it's a real smile.

The kiss I got last night.

That I'm happy where I am today.

In the moment.

Drinking

Chai tea

Reading

Other blogs about writing

Loving

You, always you

Enjoying

photos full of colour

February 14th

2011-02-14T09:04:00.001Z

Looking at the sky today,

I can't decide the exact colour .

My eyes move around

looking for diamonds

and tendrils of smoke rising from

a distant chimney.

I am loving these lighter days

and the fog cloaked mornings as I drive to work,

thinking of you.

Sitting at the traffic lights

waiting for

red to amber then green

I momentarily close my eyes

against the light

feeling the memories of you

warm,

warm against my skin

My funny Valentine

2011-02-11T22:48:00.002Z

S'pose.

Might as well

do the whole Valentine thing

as the world

( under the rooftops oiled by the moon)

has gone love crazy .

Hearts,

chocolates

cupcakes

and pink paper hearts floating

in every shop I visit.

What of the lonesome journals though?

I thought about that

as I drove home

from work today.

The ones trapped in loveless marriages...

( I can think of one where someone is staying till death do them part)

but there is no love...)

* Note number 20 :: why does he stay?

No pink floating hearts there,

only words that wound,

daily.

What of they

who are not with the ones

they should be with?

When will the Karma kick in?

I can't help but imagine.

The echoes of lost love.

Promises made.

Guitar strings picking

late in the night.

Country songs,

written for lost love.

For everything your hands, ever touched.

Funny, funny Valentines.

Drinking
White wine

Listening to
Kina Grannis

Loving
Love and days that celebrate it

Reading
Pablo Neruda love sonnets

Eating
Nothing, but wishing I was

Dreaming
Of all that should have been

Within a dream

2011-02-06T20:14:00.003Z

Who can enclose the words?

The inner thoughts that go coursing

through your veins?

His touch was so soft at times

I felt as though it could heal any wound.

As though I was

looking at a lake

reflected in the waiting sky,

full of open roses.

Look how they lie, I thought.

So still,

so silent,

If a strong breeze came,

it would scatter them

to the four winds.

I wondered if they would keep their shape,

if their scent would float through

the air

and land

gently on my skin.

Suddenly,

then,

it was as if this last week had not really happened,

and summer became a room,

a room

within a dream

Losing

2011-02-05T16:06:00.000Z

If I could,

I would print a photo of her

and leave it here, for all to see.

However, I won't.

To protect identities, I don't ever print

any family photos or even a

small snapshot of myself.

What I will do, though;

is tell you

that I lost my mum~in~ law on Tuesday.

She had become increasingly frail in

twenty ten

and on Tuesday, February 1st, The Lord

took her home to Heaven.

The days that followed

left me feeling as though

I was being dipped in scarlet pools of joy

and sadness simultaneously .

We faded in and out of our memories of her,

and in the quiet moments of exhaustion

blinked back a thousand tears.

Love once came,

love once stayed,

and we will never forget her.

For today,
this,
this, is all we need.

Can we?

2011-01-30T22:03:00.003Z

Can we learn any secrets

from the river?

When the river flows ,

it has no

sense of time.

It flowed when we were not here,

it will flow on

when we are gone.

It is everywhere,

in the blue mountains,

and at the crystal waterfall.

It runs to the ocean

where the tall ships sail,

and yet under the stars it knows not present,

nor past, nor future.

Can we learn any secrets,

from the river?

Pearls

2011-01-26T22:46:00.000Z

That night?

The one when you helped me fix

my string of pearls on?

I felt your fingers brush the nape

of my neck and I shivered.

Inside my head I was hearing Mozart,

Mozart.

That clarinet concerto.

( He knew )

One two three four

2011-01-25T23:04:00.002Z

I dreamed last night

that I could pour words

right into people.

I poured a whole chapter into you.

You understood every one.

Sugar castles

2011-01-22T12:40:00.000Z

If we lived in castles made of sugar,

we couldn't cry real tears.

So let's smile happy smiles

so the sugar won't dissolve.

Today has been laced with an Amethyst sky

and songs that could be the ghosts from the

doll houses of my girlhood.

D.A.R.L.I.N.G.

Precious,

silent one,

I love you.

You fill all the empty spaces,

you see.

I've worn fairy dust on my eyes all week,

just for you.

Under the amethyst sky.

I'll always be yours,

your pearl

your princess

your girl

always always always

Vapour trails , pretty moments

2011-01-20T21:45:00.002Z

Poor little blog.

Neglected for four whole days.

I've been busy, de-cluttering my life.

Selling on Ebay,

and I've taken up walking, walking, walking.

I decided twenty eleven was going to be

a much healthier year.

( Whispered in a small prayer to God..)

So a work life balance has been hard to keep up with.

Don't think for one minute that

I'm not soaked in beauty anymore.

On the way home from work tonight

a silent silver plane streaked right across

the sky that you sent me.

The vapour trail that followed it was

baby pink.

In that second alone,

all my questions seemed to have an answer.

Reading
Hannibal Rising

Drinking
Sweet tea

Eating
nothing

Listening to
Eight tracks

Song of the day
for RT

Camera
my iphone

Mood
hungry

Whispered words

2011-01-16T20:38:00.000Z

I'll tell you this,

if only in a whisper.

Whispered words are precious.

It's getting in close to the persons ear,

and telling them

that they make you feel

as though you have stars in your hair.

Dipping your fingers in a tiny bottle of fairy dust

and wearing it on your eyes all day~

then whispering across a sea soaked in saltwaves

thank you,

thank you.

Sometimes

2011-01-13T18:55:00.000Z

Sometimes,

in the still still night,

I wonder where you are.

Yearnings

2011-01-11T09:10:00.000Z

Restless yearnings.

I read a blog that makes my heart ache a little.

Perhaps it's my age,

and a longing to be free from the endless,

relentless grind of the nine to five wheel.

I've been off ill for over eight weeks now.

That hasn't helped any either, being at home and able

to read and drink sweet tea as I please.

This blog,

the one that stirs me,

is written by a girl

called Ciara, in a rural part of Ireland.

Wicklow, actually.

From her back door, she has the most spectacular view

of Sugar Loaf mountain and around.

And she takes a photo of it every day,

and posts it with a few simple sentences.

The view takes my breath away,

and I find myself wishing that I lived right next door to her.

I don't understand this longing,

this yearning to be far away from people.

It's just not me.

Some must dream

2011-01-09T12:08:00.000Z

You told me yesterday

that my mind

reminds you of a golden fountain.

Always flowing, splashing,

my thoughts spilling down endlessly

like strands of loosened hair.

I said,

* Some must dream*

Some must dream.

Reading
Same book as yesterday

Drinking
Fresh orange juice

Eating
Salted caramels

Camera today
Diana

Loving this guys music
on song of the day

Mood
Peaceful

Today

2011-01-08T13:38:00.000Z

Today,

is going to be filled with quiet.

Moment after moment of it.

Memories.

New York.

Paris.

Italy.

Love,

written on my arms.

The timeless songs of Simon & Garfunkel.

Always.

Moments.

Quiet.

Now.

Drinking
Tea from Rituals

Eating
Cadburys Chocolate

Reading
Woody Allen on Woody Allen

Camera
Canon EOs 40d

Mood
Contented

Tomorrow , started

2011-01-07T11:29:00.002Z

Somedays ,

I stand astonished.

The stars come and go,

rising quietly in the sky night after night.

It matters not to them

that I am here,

that I exist.

What of these quiet things?

the things that no one ever knows?

The words in the deep deep places of our hearts?

What of them?

When tomorrow has started?

You always told me,

that you wanted to write love on my arms,

that's what you said.

Reading
Moments of peace for a womans heart

Eating
Toast

Drinking
Chai tea

Weather
freezing once more

Mood
Thoughtful

Today

2011-01-06T23:03:00.001Z

Over our sandwich

and the best coffee

of the week,

we talked.

Laughed till we cried.

Discussed life and it's meaning,

our inability to grasp it at times.

Beyond,

in the distance,

our view of the city,

the clock ticking relentlessly

and the people walking by.

Across

the lovely,

sweet lemon cake

we allowed ourselves ~ ( the little indulgences of life,)

I've never felt more loved.

Reading
My journal entry for today

Drinking
White wine

Camera
Panasonic lumix

Handwriting
Mine

Enough

2011-01-04T10:23:00.001Z

Tearing my eyes away

from the pages of my book

I look up.

I've tried reading between the lines

a hundred times or so.

The day outside,

even though grey,

is quiet.

Like my unspoken thoughts.

Last night

under the swaying stars

those thoughts,

the light ones, the deep ones

came undone

like a

beautiful meadow of wildflowers.

I choose to live,

once more.

I begin again.

This world,
it is enough.

Drinking
first coffee of the day

Reading
What you see is what you get
by Lord Alan Sugar

Eating
a baby orange

Camera for today
Diana

Song of the day
Like a woman
chosen for me by Red Thread
late last night

Look back

2011-01-03T17:45:00.001Z

In twenty ten

I walked the age old streets here

I turned a certain age,

I'm older than I would rather be

And no, that's not an old shot of me in 1945,

just a picture I found endearing.

I worked and worked and worked,

being a nurse and a mom

Nope,

I'm not in either of those shots either.

Came September and I got to see the city of my dreams

I ride a bike but that ain't me.

Tears of happiness flowed down my cheeks on this bridge
and this one

Then along came Christmas
and with it, this

A brand new Thomas Sabo bracelet from my darling.

In between the months,
happiness, sadness,
relationship breakdowns, snow, illness.
We survived it all.

I welcome you.
With open arms.

Currently reading
The Bunty Annual

Drinking
Sweet chai tea

Watching
The Sopranos

All photos except 5 through 8 via Google.

5 through 8 taken by me with my trusty Canon 40d

1, 1, 11

2011-01-01T12:31:00.001Z

Standing under the moon

last night,

listening to the soulful slow

blowing of the horns on the boats

welcoming in a new year.

Melancholy tuned into my

heart like lost chords.

Memories of old, crumpled train tickets,

journals filled to the brim with my words

that hold the keys to my heart.

Notes of someone near

playing the cello

the notes, taking me far far away on the night wind.

Longing for the candour and the shape

of your face

close to mine

my trembling heart,

in your open palm.

Wishes

wishes

wishes.

1, 1, 11.

Memories, farewell ,

2010-12-31T00:14:00.001Z

Difficult.

To find words that fit~

on the last

day of the year.

Mirrors,

of memories.

Wishing I could make a video of every

happy moment ,

every song I've cried over,

the words that made my heart sing.

The people I've loved,

( and lost )

~ yet how firmly they remain in my heart.

The agonies of love,

the joys.

Who can find the words?

Who can express the deepest depths?

Not I.

In this small page,

way way,

beyond the misty stars, I've tried.

I've tried with all my heart.

For walking on this journey with me,

thank you.

Farewell, old year,

my friend.

Thank you , all those silent ghosts who
read these faltering words but never speak.

Thank you Kess, my darling angel whom I love more dearly
every passing day.

Thank you, those who love me yet remain silent.
You know who you are.

A happy and peaceful New Year to you all.

Red threads,
can never be broken.

Morning

2010-12-27T10:11:00.001Z

These little rituals of life.

Waking up.

Padding downstairs to make a pot of coffee.

Fluffing up the towels in the bathroom.

Our * adopted* cat at the back door.

Christmas perfume on my wrists.

Looking out of the kitchen window,

steaming coffee in my hand.

Wondering where Christmas went

and why she took the snow

when she left.

Reading
The Hairy Bikers cookbook

Listening to
Eight tracks

Camera Canon Eos 40D

Eating
Nothing and I'm hungry.