It’s been a very strange year of many ups and downs and I apologise to everyone who follows me, likes my blog and enjoys reading my posts. I promise to make 2019 the year when I pen my poetry and get painting again. After one of our beloved Border collies died suddenly last year, the arrival of our Slate merle pup in early spring and Skye, our surviving blue merle having a Stroke, I wondered whether life would ever become calm again.
However, Storm is a year old now, pictured above, and has a lovely nature; she gets on really well with Skye and has helped Skye get over her Stroke by assisting with her physio!
We’ve had lovely holidays in North Norfolk walking along the Coastal path, across the salt marshes and on Holkham beach and I have enjoyed a few hours here and there to paint.
I hope you like my photos and my watercolour painting of the cheeky robin who visits my bird table every morning. I have designed a Christmas card, so he can be enjoyed by friends and family.
I wish you all a warm, peaceful and jolly Christmas and the best of luck for 2019!
It has been a wet, autumnal day. I set off this morning with my dogs through a local woodland. It was dark and dripping raindrops which splattered on the leaf mold and moss filled floor. I could see beauty in tiny pools of water collected in large leaves which reflected the tree canopy and the charcoal sky: the woodland creaked and spoke to me of the year so far. The ancient trees, bark toughened, branches gnarled, split and hanging low over the path. The people I met were enjoying their rainy walks too, we were all out there enjoying the elements, exploring our day.
Later this afternoon, I left my husband decorating and headed down the garden to my Studio. I knew I would paint one of the old trees I’d seen and love in all weathers. I’m not sure if it’s finished yet. Tomorrow I will see my watercolour in the morning light! The watercolour sketch on the right I did a while ago. Another oak tree I see regularly and enjoy its presence.
like a lace wedding veil,
torn in a March gale;
sailing on scented winds
like fairy wings-
bringing spring’s tingling feeling
of happy, lingering, sunny days.
This poem is dedicated to yesterday’s International Poetry Day and a celebration of spring.
I’m really enjoying our walks in the countryside around Cople. Each day I wonder how many more buds are out, what suprises are there under the hedgerows: daisies, celedine, anemonies and tiny violets. Skylarks serenade us along the paths at the edges of fields and red kites circle above. Our prize is watching the brown hares running along the furrows and sunning themselves. Such beauty is to be savoured every moment!
The misty morn peels,
Revealing sentinels of wintery fields.
Tallow rays, like a sweet mead glaze
Healing: a warming haze.
Treading through the meadow, footsteps as light as a fae,
Amazingly, brightening the day,
A pretty, pixie flower called sweet violet
Appears alone, shielded by the sleeping hedgerow
And wrapped with ivy and bay.
January’s frosty jewels glisten on a
Salted caramel lawn.
Fairy ice dusted catkins jingle as they mingle.
Hooray! Warming rays ablaze.
My apologies for not posting for a while. As winter has truly set in, there seem to be so many jobs to get done that get in the way of creativity. I photographed plants in my garden for this post and one of my dogs of course. They are always wanting to be involved in whatever I am doing. Keep cosy if you have cold weather!
Is writing my poetry blog a deliberate distraction from the challenge to write a novel in a month?
Is the act of writing and rambling a way of getting the creative juices going?
I have had the main characters in my novel swirling about in my brain for a couple of years, may be longer. When I’m walking with the dogs, watching them and noticing the changing cloud formations or ripples on water, I can zone in on the action of the novel and what the characters are feeling and thinking. When I stop and feel close up to nature, my world reverts to poetry.
I find at first light I greet the day with my cup of coffee and pen poised to write about 1800-2000 words. My husband has gone out to work, the dogs are stretched out on the sofa. I love the quietitude. If it is calm and silent, my felt tip fibre pen takes off. I know this novel won’t be perfect because if I was using the language of poetry, it would probably take me the rest of my years to finish the first draft. I’m just letting the innocence of the novel flow and see where it ends.
For the Nanowrimo website I created a quick cover design and thought of a title: this may change.
I will always be a nature poet and photographer who writes the occasional novel. Even the genre is a tricky one. I don’t want to restrict myself.
Writing is freedom.
Frost temporarily preserves
The landscape in fine sugar dust:
A lustful feast.
Crusted tufts of wind whipped grasses
And rusted busts of proud seedpods,
Languish in a spangled frozen sea.
On rough textured tracks, puddles
Like mystical misted mirrors,
Creak and crack as sunshine
Seeps through apricot pillows
And weeping trees.
The dogs and I thoroughly enjoyed our frosty world of spangled surprises, apricot skies and mystical mirrors which creaked as we walked through our local countryside in rural Bedfordshire. Captured in every breath and every step this temporarily preserved moment was truly magical. Enjoy.
It has been a beautiful frosty day. This morning the tangled fruit bushes and hedgerows looked delicious with their tempting iced crusted leaves and frosted berries. I knew this uniquely magical moment would change so quickly, as the sun melted the frost into droplets tinkling as they rolled from one leaf to another; so I captured the essences holding my breath, not wanting to disturb the moment. My dogs, being used to many a heavy frost when we were living in Edinburgh, rolled about and played, their paws skating on iced puddles.