Category: spain

poetry and prose

My poem El inquilino (the lodger) was a runner up in the MsLexia poetry competition this year and has just been published in the magazine. That should have made it easy to find something to write for the blog today, but although copies have already been delivered to subscribers, the terms of the publishing agreement mean that the poem can’t appear here – or anywhere else – until after the official publishing date of September 1st.

That said, the poem was inspired by the wildlife at the house en el pueblo when I lived in Spain, so here is a rather different account of “the lodger”, adapted from notes for the fictionalised memoir I eventually hope to write, which will be in the house-as-life-journey genre.
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star feature

It’s that time of year again, when the Earth passes through the tail of a comet and our skies light up with shooting stars. (They aren’t stars in the photo, of course; I don’t think they’re even moon daisies: but daytime weeds are a lot easier to photograph than the sky at night.)

In the village in Spain, you only had to step outside onto the lawn and look up, and there was the Milky Way speckle-splashed across the sky as if someone had flicked a paintbrush from one side of the valley to the other.
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colours & sounds

English summers bring such a mixture of weather and colours. I admired this cousin to the dandelion not just for its cheerful yellow sunlike flowers, but also for its clear determination to hold tight and grow despite the odds.

This borage flower had rather more water and soil to aid its growth, and from the look of the sky, there was more water to come.
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running late

It’s been a beautiful day and, for once, I’ve spent very little time at my computer.

It’s the local folk festival this weekend and there has been music and a general festive air throughout the town. At the end of the road, groups played Led Zeppelin and David Bowie covers, neither of which count as folk to me, though I admit I enjoyed them rather more than I did the Morris dancing.
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perfumed memories

Linden flowersThe scent of linden flowers after rain – from the tree the English call lime – has brought memories of the garden in Spain.
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