in vino veritas

frosty moss

One of the problems with trying to write a blog or participate on social media is that it’s not always easy to think of anything to say. And even when you do have ideas, it’s all too easy to look at all the noise and start to wonder whether anyone anywhere could possibly be interested.

When the world news is full of death and damnation, a few pretty pictures and a light-hearted comment or two can hardly compete.

It seems worse than ever recently. After all, in order to write something new, it helps to come into contact with new ideas. I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that each day is just a re-hash of the day before. The news is all about the pandemic; Zoom-call conversation is much the same, although it may include discussion of lockdown exercise, take-away coffees and socially distanced walks; as for TV and books, feeling in need of consolation, I have turned to comfort reading books I already know almost word-for-word and comfort viewing endless re-runs of TV detective series. It’s hardly stimulating stuff.

We are still supposed to only go out if we really have to, so I’ve cut down on my excursions, which were limited anyway to exercise and essential supermarket shopping. And if you don’t go out, you don’t usually see things that set you thinking.

sunrise over river

But today sunshine and snow were forecast and, pandemic or not, I was determined to get a proper walk – preferably before everyone else was about.

So I was out in time to see the sunrise – which, whatever they had predicted, was about the only sun there was all day. I was home before the real snow came, but managed to take a few photos when I went out for some (essential) shopping later.

Snowy trees

But, as I said at the start of this, it seems almost pointless to post them. Surely everyone else has equally good or better photos themselves. So I poured myself a glass of wine and was sitting here bemoaning my lot and wondering why I bother.

Then I noticed something, The reflection in the thick base of the tumbler is exactly the colour the sky was when I went out before dawn this morning.

I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do with that thought, but it’s probably the most original idea I’ve had in a week!

coloured reflection in thick glass

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

7 thoughts on “in vino veritas”

  1. I am enjoying your posts… especially the landscapes and the seasonal changes…. and yes, the comments on the weather too. I agree each day has turned into “a re-hash of the day before,” but reading your take on your situation with its varied content and comments makes a pleasant change from the news and social media! A glass of wine, with or without a reflection, works too.


    1. Hello Jean – if you are the Jean Wilson I knew in a previous century, and in a previous life on a different continent, it’s lovely to see you again. And if you aren’t, it’s lovely to “meet” you. Thanks for visiting and commenting; I’m glad you’re enjoying what you find. I hadn’t really thought about how utterly British it is to fall back on the weather when all other topics fail. But there is always weather, even if it is currently restricted to the immediate locality. I hope there is whatever weather you would like wherever you are.


      1. Yes, it is me….
        I have been reading your blog for quite a while now. The photographs are good, nicely composed and often evocative. However, it’s your take on things and your, quoting you, “ability to conjure whatever situation you want through the power of words” that keeps me returning, and your poems are mesmerizing.


      2. How lovely to know you are out there and that you are enjoying what I post here.
        (Though it’s slightly scary to realise that people I know actually realise who’s behind this – that was never the intention when I started out!)
        Warm wishes to you and yours from a very wet Middle England :-)


  2. I was thinking pretty much exactly these kind of thoughts, without the original one at the end, but if it is any consolation I love your posts and was actually kind of comforted that you were thinking those kinds of thoughts too.


    1. Thank you for reading and stopping to comment! I’m really glad this post seems to have resonated with others.
      And now I’ve gone and looked at your blog and plan to go back when I have time to do it justice. I hope you are still finding the opportunity to spend time with trees.


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