I don’t celebrate Christmas and try hard to avoid the consumer chaos, so this time of year is always a bit strange: I feel there should be something a little special, but am not quite sure why or what.
Some wintry weather might help – there’s nothing like a bright frosty morning for clearing the mind and restoring the spirit. But when I went for a brief walk in the park this morning there was really nothing particularly seasonal, just vast expanses of sodden leaves and an unpleasant amount of mud.
Continue reading “slightly festive”
I suspect many people will be spending Christmas afternoon dozing on the sofa, remote control in hand, watching the TV.
So it made some kind of sense to me when I woke up this morning with the idea of using “the restive season” as a title and writing a blog post with poems about relaxation or sleep.
Then, of course, I woke up properly and remembered that “restive” has little to do with rest – rather the complete opposite: it’s fidgety, not relaxed.
Continue reading “the restive season”
Whatever name you prefer to use for it – the Cold Moon, the Long Night Moon, the Oak Moon, the Wolf Moon, or simply the Moon before Yule – I’m afraid I don’t have a photo of last night’s full moon.
I do, however, have a number of poems with the moon in them.
Here’s one of them:
Continue reading “cold moon”
Yesterday was the solstice – the shortest day of the year.
Despite this traditionally being considered the start of winter, the days will now begin to get longer and the evenings will be brighter.
Then again, according to the Time and Date website today was less than a second longer than yesterday; I guess we’ll just have to wait a bit before we notice much difference.
I seldom write about things in the news, but seeing that the Severn Bridge tolls are to cease tomorrow, it seems a good opportunity to get out a whole collection of photographs I’ve taken of the River over the last few years.
I used to travel back and forth between London and South Wales fairly regularly by road and was very familiar with the queues at the toll booths on the old bridge. Then there was a period when I travelled from Bristol airport late at night and, again, I’d have gone over the old bridge.
Continue reading “taking its toll”
the sun flowers
and sheds its petalled light
into the corners
of our unswept lives
I said this morning that yesterday was grey, with little to recommend it. Today has not been much better, although I suppose it must be slightly brighter and less grey, if only because it has been a day of domesticity: I have been washing and ironing, sweeping and dusting, scrubbing, mopping and polishing.
Continue reading “lighter, whiter, brighter”
Yesterday was a grey day with little to recommend it and little in the way of colour or words worth repeating.
Here, then, are some bright fuchsia blooms to start today; perhaps there will be equally bright thoughts and words later.