Wednesday 10 October 2012
What now, another autumn here
Pens and handwriting, vases and flower arranging
Returning to old skills never fully mastered
Wednesday 2 May 2012
Friday 9 March 2012
In praise of fresh air
Only when you don't have it do you appreciate it. This truism applies to many things including that ultimate of life's necessities ; air to breathe.
No I am not suggesting that I have suddenly or for a few days been deprived of oxygen, rather that I have been in enforced "in-doorism" (couldn't find an exact word, so if in doubt …make one up!). Even with the odd window open, several days spent without access to fresh air makes me crave that cold draft with which no wine could ever compare.
The impact of central heating seems to make the lungs feel grainy and the throat dried, as if in need of water.
When me and my couple of sticks pit pat pit patted along the concrete path into the on coming west wind heavy with sleet, I drank deep of the rich cold sweetness of the air. I had no need to think of gratitude or pleasure. I was gratitude and all was pleasure. I was tasting fresh air.
Tuesday 21 February 2012
just thinking
just thinking...
packing up and getting ready
back to the usual or change
on the horizon
all that lives, like seasons,
suffer alteration
every thing around rumbles
on, relentless
suffer, endure it
embrace it or exult
choose which we will
no choice - for chaos
is perpetual
and time
moves
on.
packing up and getting ready
back to the usual or change
on the horizon
all that lives, like seasons,
suffer alteration
every thing around rumbles
on, relentless
suffer, endure it
embrace it or exult
choose which we will
no choice - for chaos
is perpetual
and time
moves
on.
Monday 20 February 2012
Weather
Changeable weather:-
a high sky, though the sun's still low in the south
a shine of sun rays through grey-white cloud
the snow's disappeared from the gullies of hills
the rain clouds will gather again in the west
Sunday 19 February 2012
Past and present
Sunday 19th Feb
Old calendars and diaries are not just useful as reminders of birthdays, facts or events: they also trigger memories and forgotten details, even if the words are sparse and prosaic. Reminiscences need not be nostalgic indulgence or, worse, a misplaced hankering for the past; they can remind of pleasure and joys when perhaps the present is in need of such positive emotions.
Saturday 18 February 2012
Finally it snows
Snow, at last. In fact stinging hail at the point we decided to go for a walk. Higher on the hills there is a covering of snow, cleansing and refining the damp depressed grasses of winter and on the tops reflecting light back to the sun when it breaks spasmodically from the snow shower clouds. These clouds roll with speed and unexpected ferocity to drench the unwary who do not look behind them for today's prevailing weather.
A dog, released from the indoor captivity of the last few wet and miserable days, bounds joyously into the heather and grass to roll in the snow and hail that is lying between the tussocks. The dog, free of its confines, rushes to lap ice-cold water from streams, bogs and ditches full of the rains of the last few weeks. A snow shower advances but the dog happily trots on, shaking flakes from its coat. Only when the wind whips hail stones into its face does the dog consider it time to seek a place of shelter.
Yesterday (17th) was a day to hunker down by the fire, to look at photos of summer bright plants from years ago.
Thursday 16 February 2012
Showers and rainbows and a few more flowers
Feb 16th
A day of light showers, dropped from visibly finite dark clouds.
Sunshine surrounded and re-appeared from behind those clouds.
Rainbows flourished and faded, as the sun struck drops of water.
Rainbows more oily, in puddles and streams from peat in the water.
And no wind blew.
Not for a moment or two.
My poor misguided dwarf daffodils are all in bud and one flower has bloomed. I fear the north wind will bite and tear at the tender petals or frost freeze and break the fragile yellow. Should it snow, they may be crushed but might survive that better than their full sized relations, which are also beginning to flutter glimpses of yellow from the green flower buds.
I love the way that that when flowers are allowed to revert to their wilder origins, like daffodils and primroses, they seem to have scents that their over-cultivated cousins have lost, even crocuses have a delicate aroma, though they do loose depth of colour and strength of texture in their petals and leaves.
A day of light showers, dropped from visibly finite dark clouds.
Sunshine surrounded and re-appeared from behind those clouds.
Rainbows flourished and faded, as the sun struck drops of water.
Rainbows more oily, in puddles and streams from peat in the water.
And no wind blew.
Not for a moment or two.
My poor misguided dwarf daffodils are all in bud and one flower has bloomed. I fear the north wind will bite and tear at the tender petals or frost freeze and break the fragile yellow. Should it snow, they may be crushed but might survive that better than their full sized relations, which are also beginning to flutter glimpses of yellow from the green flower buds.
I love the way that that when flowers are allowed to revert to their wilder origins, like daffodils and primroses, they seem to have scents that their over-cultivated cousins have lost, even crocuses have a delicate aroma, though they do loose depth of colour and strength of texture in their petals and leaves.
Wednesday 15 February 2012
water, weather and flowers
FEb 14th
in praise of the soothing and pain-relieving effect of a warm water shower :)
FEb 15th
The weather forecast has bad news for the fresh green daffodil shoots, for the rock dove posturing for his lady and for the blackbird carrying a twig to a nest box… the winter may yet be to come: it could snow over the weekend.
The north wind doth blow
And the forecast says snow
But rain is more likely we know.
Admiring my valentine's gift:
delicate white tipped with the palest pink, the tulips cast their lantern shapes against the wall in the light of the evening;
carnations sprays in bud are light yellow tipped with an orange frill.
Flowers hold in themselves such beauty that they lift the spirit through their appearance alone.
The texture of petals, the freshness of leaves and stems brighten our world.
When flowers have a scent, then they pervade our environment with richness.
in praise of the soothing and pain-relieving effect of a warm water shower :)
FEb 15th
The weather forecast has bad news for the fresh green daffodil shoots, for the rock dove posturing for his lady and for the blackbird carrying a twig to a nest box… the winter may yet be to come: it could snow over the weekend.
The north wind doth blow
And the forecast says snow
But rain is more likely we know.
Admiring my valentine's gift:
delicate white tipped with the palest pink, the tulips cast their lantern shapes against the wall in the light of the evening;
carnations sprays in bud are light yellow tipped with an orange frill.
Flowers hold in themselves such beauty that they lift the spirit through their appearance alone.
The texture of petals, the freshness of leaves and stems brighten our world.
When flowers have a scent, then they pervade our environment with richness.
Monday 13 February 2012
Pebbles and Ponderings
Monday13 Feb
Ponderings
Yesterday I noted; "the voice can reveal what words may not" Make of that what you will but today I am thinking it is really like body language, a little bit more on the instinctive side than the words we choose, which ,unless we are unusually prone to unthinking outbursts, are so often calculated and considered, filtered through a thought process.
Today's brain churnings have seen me mulling over elements. No not the ones that Tom Leherer sang about "…of which the news had come to Harvard…." or had not been .."discavered.."
I refer to environmental elements such as water for fish,
Watching a bored collie dog transformed, energised and brought alive by the exercise of chasing a ball, I realised that such an animal, bred for work and activity, is like a fish out of water when it spends much of its day waiting around for the rare excitement of chasing the post van or other cars in an all but silent street. A farmyard filled with animals needing to be rounded up, herding sheep or cattle or "working" in some other capacity, even taking part in games, contests and then you see a different animal.
I fear it may be the same for some humans. Urban living stimulates and energises some, but overwhelms others. A rural idyll is bliss for the one but anathema to another. For many suburban living works as a way of getting a bit of both environments, yet there are those for whom this would be the ultimate worst scenario.
Perhaps like the collie it is simply necessary for there to be variety for most of us to survive, with a degree of comfort, in whatever place we find ourselves. Getting the balance right for each individual can however be quite a juggling act.
2 Pebbles
Watching:-
A blackbird, head to one side, listens to the worms. Its yellow beak will strike down. To stay safe, the prey must burrow deep.
A bored collie shouts at the sheep straggling around a fenced field.
They look up but, ignoring the command, they do not flock together.
The collie considers whether to risk a reprimand by jumping the fence.
The sheep return to grazing while the collie, depressed, slumps back to sleep.
WOWH writing prompt : of use
"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful" so said William Morris who was very interested in design and also in its social implications. Can the maxim be applied not only to things but to ideas? Also who decides what is useful or beautiful? Everyone living in the house?
That is surely the problem that is faced by many who end up with lots of "clutter". Something may be "beautiful" because of associations (sentimental value) or it may be useful in the future, which is why some keep bits and pieces that others throw away or more responsibly recycle.
Ponderings
Yesterday I noted; "the voice can reveal what words may not" Make of that what you will but today I am thinking it is really like body language, a little bit more on the instinctive side than the words we choose, which ,unless we are unusually prone to unthinking outbursts, are so often calculated and considered, filtered through a thought process.
Today's brain churnings have seen me mulling over elements. No not the ones that Tom Leherer sang about "…of which the news had come to Harvard…." or had not been .."discavered.."
I refer to environmental elements such as water for fish,
Watching a bored collie dog transformed, energised and brought alive by the exercise of chasing a ball, I realised that such an animal, bred for work and activity, is like a fish out of water when it spends much of its day waiting around for the rare excitement of chasing the post van or other cars in an all but silent street. A farmyard filled with animals needing to be rounded up, herding sheep or cattle or "working" in some other capacity, even taking part in games, contests and then you see a different animal.
I fear it may be the same for some humans. Urban living stimulates and energises some, but overwhelms others. A rural idyll is bliss for the one but anathema to another. For many suburban living works as a way of getting a bit of both environments, yet there are those for whom this would be the ultimate worst scenario.
Perhaps like the collie it is simply necessary for there to be variety for most of us to survive, with a degree of comfort, in whatever place we find ourselves. Getting the balance right for each individual can however be quite a juggling act.
2 Pebbles
Watching:-
A blackbird, head to one side, listens to the worms. Its yellow beak will strike down. To stay safe, the prey must burrow deep.
A bored collie shouts at the sheep straggling around a fenced field.
They look up but, ignoring the command, they do not flock together.
The collie considers whether to risk a reprimand by jumping the fence.
The sheep return to grazing while the collie, depressed, slumps back to sleep.
WOWH writing prompt : of use
"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful" so said William Morris who was very interested in design and also in its social implications. Can the maxim be applied not only to things but to ideas? Also who decides what is useful or beautiful? Everyone living in the house?
That is surely the problem that is faced by many who end up with lots of "clutter". Something may be "beautiful" because of associations (sentimental value) or it may be useful in the future, which is why some keep bits and pieces that others throw away or more responsibly recycle.
Saturday 11 February 2012
A long long day
Sat 11 Feb
The wind is still tonight. The sky is low and no stars shine. Through dark silence the tide echoes around the hills as it crosses the rapids from the sea into the smaller confines of the loch.
A day for checking whether the rabbits had eaten the crocuses, for clearing a few weeds, for making a greetings card, for discouraging digging by our visitor and deciding against beginning anything that might need finishing in over a weeks time.
It has been an empty sort of day, perhaps because not only did it dry up by the afternoon but the wind has stopped; not just dropped but stopped and that feels weird after such a long time. The day has echoed with non-sound and compounded an underlying lack of energy.
The wind is still tonight. The sky is low and no stars shine. Through dark silence the tide echoes around the hills as it crosses the rapids from the sea into the smaller confines of the loch.
A day for checking whether the rabbits had eaten the crocuses, for clearing a few weeds, for making a greetings card, for discouraging digging by our visitor and deciding against beginning anything that might need finishing in over a weeks time.
It has been an empty sort of day, perhaps because not only did it dry up by the afternoon but the wind has stopped; not just dropped but stopped and that feels weird after such a long time. The day has echoed with non-sound and compounded an underlying lack of energy.
Friday 10 February 2012
Friday 10th Feb
Flattened to the ground, crocuses lie pale; their royal purples leached by wind and rain. Misled by unseasonal warmth they have struggled into flower too early.
Moss-covered roots spread wide but only scratch the surface of the ground; clinging to the sodden peat they brace the fir for blasts from wind and rain.
(Above:- a couple of small pebbles today. For yesterday I completely ran out of steam and the only stones I might have had anything to do with would have been more a disconnection from, rather than a connection to life in general and my bit of it in particular.)
Dog-sitting a beardie ( a bearded collie - like the border collie but hairier). She smiles! Rather scary if you didn't know it is friendly, as she lifts her top lip and shows her front teeth including canines but it is a smile. In order to get a grin, with mouth full open, all that is needed is a short game of fetch the tennis ball and then the joy is huge, until you hide the ball away so she can't find it and insist you throw again, and again, and again…ad infinitum. Our companion animals so often have distinct personalities, it is no wonder that we miss those with whom we have spent many years.
To de-clutter (a continuous and continuing process) or to clutter… I ought to do the first but think I'll go and add to the mass of paper I posses by trying some drawing exercises about perspective and geometry. Fortunately the chances that any of these doodles will warrant any kind of keeping should mean not too much clutter, just more paper to be recycled.
Wednesday 8 February 2012
Feb 8th
Wind
a)
It hasn't stopped all day. It began in the darkness of night, The wind has been driving against car doors, in danger of breaking their locks. Hedge rows have been a frenzy of whipping twigs, buffeting small birds that shelter there. Sheep shelter under rocks, the lea of hills, behind stone walls, even beside old frail fence posts. The devil's spume is raised to force the water from the rains back up the hills from where they came. Seared grasses and grey heathers pulse like waves upon the moors. The waters on the shores smash down and fresh or salt the surface of the lochs is white with spume of breakers large and small.
The sound assaults the ears from chimney, windows' edge and door frame. It sings, hums, whistles and screams.
And, when it will stop, we shall wake at the silence.
Small birds fly low, if fly they do. The rabbits venture out but are soon forced back forlorn and wet into earthen tunnels.
The eagle will not be seen today.
b)
It has the power to pick up trees, to bend and break them too. As I turn a corner, I must lean upon it, if I am to venture forward, but know its breath is fickle and could let me fall. The gale-force demands respect and caution.
In matters of rest: - ( WOHW prompt)
I would rest upon my laurels only I never won any. I have often wondered if laurel does in fact make for a comfortable bed and whether the winning of accolades makes sleeping any easier.
After all as Shakespeare pointed out "Uneasy lies the head…etc" Anyway these days what constitutes laurels? Patently not a knighthood, at least in the current climate. Being a celebrity? Much denigrated for being all froth and no substance. What then of substance? Wealth and money? Certainly a route to power, but then Power is well known as a corrupter.
So maybe accolades and fame are not the way.
Well, it is back to the hot drink and good book for me (and you can interpret that in anyway you like!) and, if I wake in the witching hours, I'll not worry about a lack of sleep or rest but amuse myself by enumerating the "laurels" that life may yet bring, none of which can make me more or less.
a)
It hasn't stopped all day. It began in the darkness of night, The wind has been driving against car doors, in danger of breaking their locks. Hedge rows have been a frenzy of whipping twigs, buffeting small birds that shelter there. Sheep shelter under rocks, the lea of hills, behind stone walls, even beside old frail fence posts. The devil's spume is raised to force the water from the rains back up the hills from where they came. Seared grasses and grey heathers pulse like waves upon the moors. The waters on the shores smash down and fresh or salt the surface of the lochs is white with spume of breakers large and small.
The sound assaults the ears from chimney, windows' edge and door frame. It sings, hums, whistles and screams.
And, when it will stop, we shall wake at the silence.
Small birds fly low, if fly they do. The rabbits venture out but are soon forced back forlorn and wet into earthen tunnels.
The eagle will not be seen today.
b)
It has the power to pick up trees, to bend and break them too. As I turn a corner, I must lean upon it, if I am to venture forward, but know its breath is fickle and could let me fall. The gale-force demands respect and caution.
In matters of rest: - ( WOHW prompt)
I would rest upon my laurels only I never won any. I have often wondered if laurel does in fact make for a comfortable bed and whether the winning of accolades makes sleeping any easier.
After all as Shakespeare pointed out "Uneasy lies the head…etc" Anyway these days what constitutes laurels? Patently not a knighthood, at least in the current climate. Being a celebrity? Much denigrated for being all froth and no substance. What then of substance? Wealth and money? Certainly a route to power, but then Power is well known as a corrupter.
So maybe accolades and fame are not the way.
Well, it is back to the hot drink and good book for me (and you can interpret that in anyway you like!) and, if I wake in the witching hours, I'll not worry about a lack of sleep or rest but amuse myself by enumerating the "laurels" that life may yet bring, none of which can make me more or less.
Tuesday 7 February 2012
Feb 7th I spy...and Water
Feb 7th (none on 6th)
I spy...
through a chink in the stone walls of the brooch
the whole of the landscape surrounding this hill
and the reason this structure stands in this spot.
I spy…
through the wind and the waves
they are launching the lifeboat
volunteering to save yet more lives
Wondering about and words on -------Water
A warm shower in wintry day, courtesy of the wonders of plumbing;
A cold shock as you take to the sea for the first swim of the spring;
A luxury wallow in a deep bath or the bubbles of a jacuzzi;
A swim in the fresh water of a river can be hard work.
We don't just drink it, we wallow in it.
It is us…or at least a huge part of us.
Without it we perish, life perishes
Our world perishes.
Water, which we sometimes take for granted,
That stream falling over the stones,
The drops tumbling out of the clouds,
The thrashing of the seas,
The depths of the lochs,
Tsunamis, storms and monsoons
bringing water.
Destructive and damaging sometimes
Water's our essential supporter, a cradle of life.
There is a smell of salt lifted from the sea,
it is filtered through grey cloud,
till falling now in cold drops
to patter on the roof
it's taste support all life
Water in a stream may take the meandering easiest route around stones but can hurtle in falls over boulders and cliffs.
I spy...
through a chink in the stone walls of the brooch
the whole of the landscape surrounding this hill
and the reason this structure stands in this spot.
I spy…
through the wind and the waves
they are launching the lifeboat
volunteering to save yet more lives
Wondering about and words on -------Water
A warm shower in wintry day, courtesy of the wonders of plumbing;
A cold shock as you take to the sea for the first swim of the spring;
A luxury wallow in a deep bath or the bubbles of a jacuzzi;
A swim in the fresh water of a river can be hard work.
We don't just drink it, we wallow in it.
It is us…or at least a huge part of us.
Without it we perish, life perishes
Our world perishes.
Water, which we sometimes take for granted,
That stream falling over the stones,
The drops tumbling out of the clouds,
The thrashing of the seas,
The depths of the lochs,
Tsunamis, storms and monsoons
bringing water.
Destructive and damaging sometimes
Water's our essential supporter, a cradle of life.
There is a smell of salt lifted from the sea,
it is filtered through grey cloud,
till falling now in cold drops
to patter on the roof
it's taste support all life
Water in a stream may take the meandering easiest route around stones but can hurtle in falls over boulders and cliffs.
Sunday 5 February 2012
A sunday in Feb. -5th
I spy…
sometimes it used to be car types. I always lost. I've never been able to tell one make from another!
On those long journeys to get to the seaside, once we had risen to the dizzy heights of car-ownership, there arose the problem of keeping us children entertained. Trains were different. Lots of ways to write, read, play cards or board games. Once we travelled by car there was the problem of car sickness. Just not possible to read; so I spy in any form was a great entertainer. Of course there was also singing and those wonderful books where you watched out for everything from road signs to animals to makes of car!
Just thinking
Coal for the fire. Black and very ancient. I watch the flame brightly burning. I wonder what kind of tree had grown and been compressed. Perhaps it was the time of the dinosaurs. Maybe it was earlier when only flora flourished. The warmth surrounds me. The coal turns into ash. Tomorrow I will return this dust to earth in which it once grew.
Tree
Plants sometimes move. Under fences perhaps, like lily of the valley. Trees may also move. Maybe it is just that over time roots and weather pull it one way or another. Certainly each tree has character. This one certainly has and it looks as if it is on the move.
sometimes it used to be car types. I always lost. I've never been able to tell one make from another!
On those long journeys to get to the seaside, once we had risen to the dizzy heights of car-ownership, there arose the problem of keeping us children entertained. Trains were different. Lots of ways to write, read, play cards or board games. Once we travelled by car there was the problem of car sickness. Just not possible to read; so I spy in any form was a great entertainer. Of course there was also singing and those wonderful books where you watched out for everything from road signs to animals to makes of car!
Just thinking
Coal for the fire. Black and very ancient. I watch the flame brightly burning. I wonder what kind of tree had grown and been compressed. Perhaps it was the time of the dinosaurs. Maybe it was earlier when only flora flourished. The warmth surrounds me. The coal turns into ash. Tomorrow I will return this dust to earth in which it once grew.
Tree
Plants sometimes move. Under fences perhaps, like lily of the valley. Trees may also move. Maybe it is just that over time roots and weather pull it one way or another. Certainly each tree has character. This one certainly has and it looks as if it is on the move.
Saturday 4 February 2012
For today-Feb 4th
While on the mainland there is snow forecast, here was a.m.full of rain , then hail, then high cold sun.
Today there is a struggle between winter and the coming spring. Crocuses are appearing but they may yet be struck by the cold of continental Europe spreading out. The sun now rises behind the eastern corner of the front of the house and sets a little way round to the west. It is time to think of coming out of hibernation, but not to rush. It may yet be wise to sleep a little longer.
I spy...
a black balloon:-
surrounds the space and, though translucent, effectively holds back the smell, the touch of all beyond; though seen and known, the outside light is distorted as are the sounds of life out there; all taste is dull; all savour dulled.
who holds the pin to puncture this cocoon?
Small Stone
a tunnel of last year's grasses makes a safe route for the rabbit as it runs for its burrow beneath the gaze of a floating eagle
Today there is a struggle between winter and the coming spring. Crocuses are appearing but they may yet be struck by the cold of continental Europe spreading out. The sun now rises behind the eastern corner of the front of the house and sets a little way round to the west. It is time to think of coming out of hibernation, but not to rush. It may yet be wise to sleep a little longer.
I spy...
a black balloon:-
surrounds the space and, though translucent, effectively holds back the smell, the touch of all beyond; though seen and known, the outside light is distorted as are the sounds of life out there; all taste is dull; all savour dulled.
who holds the pin to puncture this cocoon?
Small Stone
Friday 3 February 2012
Feb 3rd...witterings
I spy… (around the bird feeder) - (light-hearted rhyme based on real sightings)
I spy… a rabbit sitting in my garden
Trying to be a bird.
I wonder where he heard
There were peanuts for the taking.
I spy…a bird clinging to the feeder:
Rather strange it is
With that tail of his:-
That field mouse must be hungry.
I spy…a raptor just behind the feeder
All the birds are waiting
Hope they are in hiding
Till the falcon's done.
Anger (from serious consideration to ………….. well, you decide!)
Anger is, I think a difficult emotion. It has its uses if we channel it towards changing a bad situation for the future. It is often not one that is easily handled within relationships and is difficult for children.
Too often perhaps it is turned inward and causes self-negating, self-destructive behaviours and thoughts. Sometimes it becomes other directed and results in violence and aggression. At the very least if it has nowhere to go it somehow makes a little hole in the fabric that is life and saps a little of the vibrancy of existence.
Today I stamped my foot. I do not believe I have done that since I was a child. In fact I may not have been allowed to do that as a child or I may just never have done it.
I was a presented with the problem of how to dispose of those air-bags that surround items delivered in over-large boxes. There is only so much recycling of them for the purpose for which they were intended that the average household can do. I needed to reduce their volume and then I could just recycle the plastic!
I would stamp on them.
Looking at them I was reminded of a story, perhaps apocryphal, that in a pottery factory in Bornholm the employees were allowed to throw the reject plates etc. at cut-outs/pictures of the boss or management. I decided a to make use of my stamping to "let off some steam."
What was I angry at? What did I have to be angry at? Nothing really, except for things that truly cannot be changed. But, so what!
I stamped away, creating satisfying pops as each air bag burst.
I felt better. Well less tense anyway.
So let me add to the primal scream, to the massage, to the popping of bubble wrap and others tricks, this particular method of giving vent to frustration and anger -
Become a child again but use your stamping hissy fit to reduce not only your tensions but your clutter too!
I spy… a rabbit sitting in my garden
Trying to be a bird.
I wonder where he heard
There were peanuts for the taking.
I spy…a bird clinging to the feeder:
Rather strange it is
With that tail of his:-
That field mouse must be hungry.
I spy…a raptor just behind the feeder
All the birds are waiting
Hope they are in hiding
Till the falcon's done.
Anger (from serious consideration to ………….. well, you decide!)
Anger is, I think a difficult emotion. It has its uses if we channel it towards changing a bad situation for the future. It is often not one that is easily handled within relationships and is difficult for children.
Too often perhaps it is turned inward and causes self-negating, self-destructive behaviours and thoughts. Sometimes it becomes other directed and results in violence and aggression. At the very least if it has nowhere to go it somehow makes a little hole in the fabric that is life and saps a little of the vibrancy of existence.
Today I stamped my foot. I do not believe I have done that since I was a child. In fact I may not have been allowed to do that as a child or I may just never have done it.
I was a presented with the problem of how to dispose of those air-bags that surround items delivered in over-large boxes. There is only so much recycling of them for the purpose for which they were intended that the average household can do. I needed to reduce their volume and then I could just recycle the plastic!
I would stamp on them.
Looking at them I was reminded of a story, perhaps apocryphal, that in a pottery factory in Bornholm the employees were allowed to throw the reject plates etc. at cut-outs/pictures of the boss or management. I decided a to make use of my stamping to "let off some steam."
What was I angry at? What did I have to be angry at? Nothing really, except for things that truly cannot be changed. But, so what!
I stamped away, creating satisfying pops as each air bag burst.
I felt better. Well less tense anyway.
So let me add to the primal scream, to the massage, to the popping of bubble wrap and others tricks, this particular method of giving vent to frustration and anger -
Become a child again but use your stamping hissy fit to reduce not only your tensions but your clutter too!
Thursday 2 February 2012
Choice and "I Spy"
When I was working I never seemed to have time for choice. Somehow I just got on and did what had to be done. Now retired, I have time for choice but for some things not the capacity nor theSharing energy, nor the desire. Priorities change and too much choice can be overwhelming.
As a rural dweller I truly find the variety available in some huge shopping areas unhelpful and tiring, so that I will leave without making a choice or a purchase.
Yet whether choice is real or no, it is essential to any feeling I have that I have some control over my own life.
I for one would never want to feel that I was not responsible for my behaviour.
I have grown towards the feeling that not only do I in reality know and understand less and less than I once knew when I was younger, but also there has been an increasing acceptance that I and all around me are ultimately both important and insignificant parts of a huge all encompassing whole.
In fact I seem to manage to believe in choice (free will) and in predestination (which makes choice redundant)!
(I Spy - writing prompt from WOWH)
Today I remember a time when "I spy" helped us through a fog. My parents had hired a car (a bit of a wreck) and in a really bad fog we passengers leaned out of the windows playing a form of" I spy" so that we stayed on the road, avoided obstacles and made it to our destination safely.
This was in a different time so many years ago, when vehicle condition was a far more relaxed affair than today and there was far less traffic on the roads.
Feb 2nd
FEB 2
Fellow feeling
I share with Fiona
Frustration
Terminal problems with computer
Hoping things soon sorted.
All my decent photos of my dog
are on the hard drive.
So sadness surfaces,
But remembering now
Anna and Frances shared
their understanding with me.
Fellow feeling gives such strength.
On - not going for a walk
A bright, a brittle day
with cold air gathering for tonight
to seal the water to the ground.
A day a dog would love
for bounding out across the moor,
for slipping on ice frozen pools.
Look to the sky, pull round a blanket.
Do not go out, encased in brittle
Memory which fractures on a walk.
The sun out there shines strong
But does not warm the ground.
It will not light within my mood.
Stay wrapped up here inside today
to see the spaces that are left
and punctuate the hours with holes.
High cloud is kindly, lifting darkness
that a gloomier day would drop upon
all wearied backs and shoulders.
It is a gift, this light that brings
A whispering of explanation,
of joy to things that make no sense.
So to return that kindness
may I venture out beyond the door
to fill bird feeders before it freeze tonight.
Fellow feeling
I share with Fiona
Frustration
Terminal problems with computer
Hoping things soon sorted.
All my decent photos of my dog
are on the hard drive.
So sadness surfaces,
But remembering now
Anna and Frances shared
their understanding with me.
Fellow feeling gives such strength.
On - not going for a walk
A bright, a brittle day
with cold air gathering for tonight
to seal the water to the ground.
A day a dog would love
for bounding out across the moor,
for slipping on ice frozen pools.
Look to the sky, pull round a blanket.
Do not go out, encased in brittle
Memory which fractures on a walk.
The sun out there shines strong
But does not warm the ground.
It will not light within my mood.
Stay wrapped up here inside today
to see the spaces that are left
and punctuate the hours with holes.
High cloud is kindly, lifting darkness
that a gloomier day would drop upon
all wearied backs and shoulders.
It is a gift, this light that brings
A whispering of explanation,
of joy to things that make no sense.
So to return that kindness
may I venture out beyond the door
to fill bird feeders before it freeze tonight.
Wednesday 1 February 2012
Feb 1 and then...
small stones
A hole in the heather
Inside that hole is a whole way of life:
A rabbbit burrow, warren of tunnels;
Mice in tiny corners beneath the grass
And worms and insects flourish.
the cool smooth feel of the wet peat we unearthed
so clean so fresh;
yet when we get home we wash off the dirt.
Clean away the dirt
Brush away the cobwebs
A fresh start.
but look at those cocoons
they're home to spiderlings
they probably eat midges
We'll keep the cobwebs then
I Spy....
(Writing prompt...WOWH)
We are in the car and I choose S.
They guess and guess and have to give up.
"So what was it then" my brother asks.
"Stink" I say.
"But you can't see that."
"Almost," I reply "it's strong enough."
"Yes it's pretty bad."
"You could cut it with a knife!"
We all four mum and dad, brother and I look at the dog, who's from next door - (we're dog-sitting his holiday.)
He looks back at us and we all shake our heads
I'm sure he shakes his…
It is now that we realise the stench comes from the fields outside -
Bone meal fertiliser is far les fragrant than, what gran used to call the "good country smells" - fresh manure.
We all apologised to the dog.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with...
Any letter that I choose.
Which obscure item can I use?
I spy something that makes me want to cry
A dog like mine and I hear someone calls his name.
A hole in the heather
Inside that hole is a whole way of life:
A rabbbit burrow, warren of tunnels;
Mice in tiny corners beneath the grass
And worms and insects flourish.
the cool smooth feel of the wet peat we unearthed
so clean so fresh;
yet when we get home we wash off the dirt.
Clean away the dirt
Brush away the cobwebs
A fresh start.
but look at those cocoons
they're home to spiderlings
they probably eat midges
We'll keep the cobwebs then
I Spy....
(Writing prompt...WOWH)
We are in the car and I choose S.
They guess and guess and have to give up.
"So what was it then" my brother asks.
"Stink" I say.
"But you can't see that."
"Almost," I reply "it's strong enough."
"Yes it's pretty bad."
"You could cut it with a knife!"
We all four mum and dad, brother and I look at the dog, who's from next door - (we're dog-sitting his holiday.)
He looks back at us and we all shake our heads
I'm sure he shakes his…
It is now that we realise the stench comes from the fields outside -
Bone meal fertiliser is far les fragrant than, what gran used to call the "good country smells" - fresh manure.
We all apologised to the dog.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with...
Any letter that I choose.
Which obscure item can I use?
I spy something that makes me want to cry
A dog like mine and I hear someone calls his name.
Tuesday 31 January 2012
Jan 31 Stone
Today my friend slept too much and too long. He will not wake again. It came, as an asteroid hits the earth, not unexpected but no less destructive for our anticipation. I shall miss the companionship of an uncritical, trustworthy and trusting presence in my life. He could keep secrets and never tell. Always welcoming when we met again, he never showed resentment at shortcomings. Unconditional affection was his to give in abundance and he loved us all. My old friend, my dog died today.
Last stone of the month of the river:-
Reading so many wonderful stones each day in the last month has been a privilege for which I am very grateful. I have admired the writing, laughed at some things, shared sad or worried feelings at others. Thanks to everyone. Especially to everyone who has organised. Thank you for letting me be part of this experience. H
Last stone of the month of the river:-
Reading so many wonderful stones each day in the last month has been a privilege for which I am very grateful. I have admired the writing, laughed at some things, shared sad or worried feelings at others. Thanks to everyone. Especially to everyone who has organised. Thank you for letting me be part of this experience. H
Monday 30 January 2012
Jan 30 Stone (A fistful of pebbles)
Seeing what is not there and hearing what no longer has sound, s(he) played patience. There inside the patterns of the numbers, suites and the cards, (s)he could find structure and control close enough to grasp; could remember as (s)he wished and not be troubled for a response. The sound of the cards gave all the appearance of activity that satisfied all watchers.
On a rock in the midst of a blue frozen river an otter surprised a sea eagle. The eagle might have made it a meal but the otter ducked back beneath the ice and swam for his life to the next breathing hole.
Forests, deserts, gardens and plains can all be seen in miniature colourful amongst the lichen and mosses that populate a rock.
(Jan 30 stone)
Clouds in lines blow bubbles in the east of this cold afternoon. In the south west the sun is pulling the cloud-curtain across the daylight. A bright night will soon be here and we shall have the glint of stars to pattern a black blanket sky. On a glittering carpet we shall step with care, as frost sparkles and crunches beneath our feet. There may be snow tomorrow.
Sunday 29 January 2012
Jan 29 Stone
From their green sheath the flowers emerge.
On the broad lower petal-lip lie yellow tongues,
Shaded by fragile forked canopies.
The iris blooms; royal blue.
Saturday 28 January 2012
Jan28 Stone
A dreich day wraps damp fingers
Around me.
Bird-like I seek a dry hedge
To surround me.
Dry at home I the feel warmth
All around me.
Now will rest from all probing
Surround me.
Around me.
Bird-like I seek a dry hedge
To surround me.
Dry at home I the feel warmth
All around me.
Now will rest from all probing
Surround me.
Friday 27 January 2012
Jan 27 Stone
when rain dark day may not.
Cold but bright may make
for conversations- light -
where head-down battling
the gale to surly silence tends.
A perfect cloud, atop a burnished hill
And sunset gold subsides
As new moon climbs.
Thursday 26 January 2012
Jan 26 Stone
The twin comforts of:
The start of the day
The coming of the night.
Dawn urges us to wake
If we let it.
Night rise relaxes us
Calms us for rest.
Yet we pay them little heed.
Wednesday 25 January 2012
Jan 25 Stone
The wind that stopped the ferry's arrival
and churns the lochs into whirlpools
and the waves into breakers and rollers,
Is the same wind that gently riffles
the water lying on the path into patterns
Is the same wind that raises the stream
till it flows back up stream from the cliff edge.
and churns the lochs into whirlpools
and the waves into breakers and rollers,
Is the same wind that gently riffles
the water lying on the path into patterns
Is the same wind that raises the stream
till it flows back up stream from the cliff edge.
Tuesday 24 January 2012
Jan 24 Stone
On trying to learn part of a piano piece:-
A Mozart concerto is an interweaving of some unexpected intervals
A Marvellous theme and melody: but the structure of the whole is
A Miracle of architectural and engineered support.
And I'll probably never master it.
A Mozart concerto is an interweaving of some unexpected intervals
A Marvellous theme and melody: but the structure of the whole is
A Miracle of architectural and engineered support.
And I'll probably never master it.
Monday 23 January 2012
Jan 23 Stone(s)
Too much kept from the past
Can be clutter in the present
Will I need in the future?
Time may take away memories
So what are these triggers worth
And should I really care?
Early morning meeting
Slugs surface at night
Sliding into damp tiled outhouses
Silvering floors with their slime.
Sunday 22 January 2012
3 Stones in the River
Jan 20 Stone
In the cold of the north and the warmth of the west, the gulf stream allows palm trees to flourish in summer. At this time of year their dead skirts of leaves droop decorously downwards, listless dun-coloured and tattered.
Yet, look up: the palm crowns battle darkly green against the South Westerly and protect a few lighter green leaves that peer, almost shly, from deep within the tree top. A warm winter results in signs of early spring.
Look down: the shoots of daffodils are cutting, lance-like, through the grass.
Jan 21 Stone
Watercolour wash blends seamlessly, unbidden with whatever comes next; just like this one moment blends into the next hour into the next day. Painting in the specifics turns a background into a picture, just as memory writes the remembered detailed portrait of today.
Jan 22 Stone
A rabbit with reddish fur at the back of its head, a white feather in the wing of a blackbird and a robin, too fluffy and pale breasted to be fully grown - each of these make me curious for answers I may never find, make me consider the value of the usual and the unusual and most of all make me aware of how even the most ordinary of environments is full of ever changing detail.
And those Questions:
Wild grey, a rabbit met an escaped pet
She was seduced by his russet fur?
The boy blackbird bullied in the nest?
Or was the white feather a badge of status?
A warm winter and a fledgling robin
Connected?
Early nesting is possible
But this early?
Any answers or more questions could all be enlightening.
In the cold of the north and the warmth of the west, the gulf stream allows palm trees to flourish in summer. At this time of year their dead skirts of leaves droop decorously downwards, listless dun-coloured and tattered.
Yet, look up: the palm crowns battle darkly green against the South Westerly and protect a few lighter green leaves that peer, almost shly, from deep within the tree top. A warm winter results in signs of early spring.
Look down: the shoots of daffodils are cutting, lance-like, through the grass.
Jan 21 Stone
Watercolour wash blends seamlessly, unbidden with whatever comes next; just like this one moment blends into the next hour into the next day. Painting in the specifics turns a background into a picture, just as memory writes the remembered detailed portrait of today.
Jan 22 Stone
A rabbit with reddish fur at the back of its head, a white feather in the wing of a blackbird and a robin, too fluffy and pale breasted to be fully grown - each of these make me curious for answers I may never find, make me consider the value of the usual and the unusual and most of all make me aware of how even the most ordinary of environments is full of ever changing detail.
And those Questions:
Wild grey, a rabbit met an escaped pet
She was seduced by his russet fur?
The boy blackbird bullied in the nest?
Or was the white feather a badge of status?
A warm winter and a fledgling robin
Connected?
Early nesting is possible
But this early?
Any answers or more questions could all be enlightening.
Thursday 19 January 2012
Jan19 Stone (incl.Jan18 Stone)
Jan 18 Stone & Jan 19 Stone
(18th)
again a day when the stone failed to crystallise! but looking back on it I did notice:-
As a friend put on a fleece cardigan, the warm heather blue and light claret patterning lifted his whole appearance. The colours banished the cold grey pallor the weather had injected to his skin. We perceive warmth with more than one of senses.
(today 19th)
tackling the new and unfamiliar is scary, frustrating and fun
Tuesday 17 January 2012
Jan 17 Stone(s)
Jan 17 Stone(s)
Yesterday (16th) wrote quite a few...
boulders ,grains of sand, even pebbles but could not manage
a stone!
But 2 for today:
Walking beside a stream moving towards its source hear the
sound of labouring effort - uphill. Returning the other way the trickle, splash
and flow over obstacles is smoother. The sound is faster, even rushed - a
downhill noise.
Even leafless trees make very good umbrellas in a drizzle!
Sunday 15 January 2012
A sort of PS
Also wanted to add another stone for today:-
many grains of gratitude
for the pleasure
from all the other stones
in the river
many grains of gratitude
for the pleasure
from all the other stones
in the river
Saturday 14 January 2012
Jan14 Stone
Madagascar's orb web spider's golden web silk has been used to create an astounding piece of golden cloth. This has been displayed in New York and is now in London. The whole thing is astonishing and very beautiful but most amazing is that we live in a world where spiders produce golden silk and where such stunning things can happen.
[To see some pictures (6) of this + some information (copy & paste) go to:-
http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_9674000/9674949.stm
But I should warn you - if you don't like spiders 2 out of the 4 pictures do show the spiders]
[To see some pictures (6) of this + some information (copy & paste) go to:-
http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_9674000/9674949.stm
But I should warn you - if you don't like spiders 2 out of the 4 pictures do show the spiders]
Friday 13 January 2012
Jan 13 Stone
White grey clouds sport dark,
Dark pinkish-red underskirts
Just at final sunset.
The clouds are heavy with snow.
It may not fall tonight.
These clouds themselves
Have warmed the bright cold
Of the day's clear light.
The photo is just to give an idea of the colour underpinning the clouds.
Dark pinkish-red underskirts
Just at final sunset.
The clouds are heavy with snow.
It may not fall tonight.
These clouds themselves
Have warmed the bright cold
Of the day's clear light.
The photo is just to give an idea of the colour underpinning the clouds.
Thursday 12 January 2012
Jan 12 Stone
Today
Black-headed gulls were flying in the thermals and
breezes at the cliff edge.
Ravens
joined in.
Were they exhibiting
their skills to each other?
Wednesday 11 January 2012
Jan11 Stone
using drawing paper with oil pastels:
The flaws in the drawing board suddenly take shape as patterns -an unexpected picture appears.
A bit like brass rubbing but unintentional!
The flaws in the drawing board suddenly take shape as patterns -an unexpected picture appears.
A bit like brass rubbing but unintentional!
Tuesday 10 January 2012
Jan 10th Stone
Feather
A black raven feather glistens with raindrops.
A feather can be re-formed even if the fronds are
unhooked.
A feathered is engineered; it is designed to fulfill
its task.
Its blackness if no absence of colour, for the feather
shines,
Bright, with the darkness of every hue imaginable hue.
Monday 9 January 2012
Jan 9 Stone
Polka dots of rain decorate a concrete wall, while the mist in the glen briefly returns winter-dead heather to it's flowering purple haze once more.
Sunday 8 January 2012
Jan 8 Stone
Trying to take photo of the same thing in different lights, against different backgrounds.
Also saw artist David Hockney talking about colour and really looking at things.
I realised with excitement and delight something that is probably glaringly obvious to most other people:-
Light does not just illuminate;
It's absence does not just create shadow.
Light or the lack of it
Creates and alters colour.
Also saw artist David Hockney talking about colour and really looking at things.
I realised with excitement and delight something that is probably glaringly obvious to most other people:-
Light does not just illuminate;
It's absence does not just create shadow.
Light or the lack of it
Creates and alters colour.
Saturday 7 January 2012
Jan 7 stone
Our hands hold our history.
From the baby's full tiny fist
Through the growing strength
Of youth and competency of
Adulthood, we use up our hands
Into the leaner, gnarled, revealing
Ones we exhibit as we age.
From the baby's full tiny fist
Through the growing strength
Of youth and competency of
Adulthood, we use up our hands
Into the leaner, gnarled, revealing
Ones we exhibit as we age.
Friday 6 January 2012
2nd Jan Stone
This one seems to have got lost along the way somewhere but here it is anyway.
Jan 2nd
Snow scatter on the hill top momentarily attracts white
clouds and sunlight, before the dark rain thunder heads return.
Jan 3-6 Stones
Jan 3rd
Encounter
A sudden reminder of how strong, how vulnerable each human
is.
To survive we cannot afford to dwell on our fragility.
Yet the beauty, complexity of each human life is worthy of
awe and wonder.
Jan 4th
A grey cloud touches on
the lower heights of the hill,
sheds its burden of rain
rises, now white, to curl
comforting, scarf-like,
hugging the peak.
Jan 5th
Sunshine highlighted the iridescence of starling feathers
Jan 6th
Raindrops race each other down the windowpane just because
they can.
Sunday 1 January 2012
1 Jan 2012
An eagle held the air watching first-footers on his hill today. The sunset early and hastened their departure. Gliding serene, the watcher rode a thermal to roost high up, upon a crag.
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