I’ve mentioned the children’s poem Dorothy Rose on the blog before now, and how the world can seem very different, depending on where you choose to look.
These photos, taken within a few yards of each other this morning, serve as a reminder that the bare, dripping branches of winter don’t tell the whole story.
Yesterday, around the world millions of people gave thanks for lots of different things. In a month’s time, it will be Christmas Day, and millions of others will also be counting their blessings.
Today, I haven’t a single poetical thought to share, no particular insights into life, and I have seen no particularly atrocious grammar in the papers to mock. I don’t even have time to go and find something odd or otherwise worthy of a photograph.
However, since today is as good a day as any other to be thankful, I’ve found two old photos from November last year of sights that were both bright and glorious and made me feel thankful, cheerful and just generally good about life, even if only briefly:
When I first moved to Spain, the country was suffering a drought.
(We all have a tendency to fall back on stereotypes. When I tell people I live in Spain they assume I must live on one of those fictional costas where no one ever does any work but spends all day and all the long, hot night sitting at a terraza on the beach drinking iced beer or cheap vino tinto.)
Continue reading “positivity check”
I was at a writing workshop this weekend and one exercise involved writing about our childhood homes. When the first few pieces were read out they involved anecdotes of family arguments and illness etc.
Some of the people involved grew up during the War, so it’s not surprising that there were some bad memories, but the tutor commented that her experience shows the vast majority of people will write something negative. I suppose this ties in with the fact that first memories are often of some traumatic experience.
Continue reading “the bright side”
Looking at the front page of the blog, I realise that the last three posts are accompanied by pictures taken looking up at the sky, and I am reminded of a poem from my childhood.
The Rhyme of Dorothy Rose by Pauline Frances Camp starts with the line:
Dorothy Rose had a turned-up nose
That’s all I could remember of the poem, although I was clear about the story it told: rather than bemoaning her snub nose, the little girl decides to tilt her whole personality and attitude to match and becomes a delightful person because of it.
Continue reading “ever upwards”
don't confuse the narrator 