This bumblebee landed on my shoulder and didn’t want to leave for quite a while, so I walked and talked and the bee enjoyed the warmth of my sweater. It was quite a privilege! It was a lovely warm autumnal morning and there may not be many more of those.
Are there still Bees around where you are? Enjoy them today. 🙂
Grand anchor,
Languishing abandoned,
Sinking in silt and shingle;
Seeping salty tales
Of billowing sails
On crescendo gales.
Breached and reached
Barnacle braille
Tales of whales
And ancient
Sailors’ ways.
“http//dailypost/weekly-photo-challenge/abandonment/2014/02/28”
Over the festive period, in between periods of very heavy rain, we tried to find places to walk which weren’t flooded or too boggy to pass even in the wellies! One day I had a craving to go to the coast so we went to Southwold in Suffolk, a jolly traditional seaside town. We had great fun playing with the dogs on the beach followed by freshly brewed coffee at the harbour and a purchase of fish, fresh from the boats. Another day we walked along the canal-side at Berkhamstead, Hertfordshire where I came across a cat on a ‘hot tin roof’ of a narrow-boat, enjoying the warmth from the rare moment of sunshine. The third photo of the beautiful lone horse who enjoyed some attention, was taken near a walk along a disused railway at Ayot green, a tiny picturesque village in Hertfordshire. I hope you enjoy looking at my furry friends!
‘ Memories are the key not to the past
but the future.’
Corrie Ten Bown
Time to wander,
Pondering whilst
Sauntering on
Sunny,
Silky,
Wet sand
Like a caramel
Fudge land.
Salty lips,
Chalky skin,
A deep,
Warm mineral
Breath in:
Letting go.
Waves fade
Negative thoughts
Wash away.
Sea lavender breeze,
Flotsam of old trees.
Memories like
Sea glass pebbles
And sea shell patterns
In the sand.
Ese’s challenge ‘memories’ gave me the idea to return to the memory of the walk with my husband and dogs on the Norfolk sands one carefree day when we were on holiday and had time to saunter and breathe in the minerals and taste the seaside. It was a precious memory, where we got lost in our own thoughts, reminisced and had fun with our dogs. The light was wonderful, so relaxing.
Ese’s weekly shoot and quote challenge: Memories
The golden hour begins
As a medley of majestic
Melon,
Opulent orange,
Sultry sanguine
And raspberry
Ripple
Seep serenely:
The sky prepares
To sleep.
Fishermen’s huts
Heave into slumber,
Creaking gently.
A brisk breeze;
A salty scent of
Slithering skate
Funnels through
Wooden slats,
Waking the ghosts
Of cod and
Heaving haddock.
Pearcing purple dust,
Dwindles to dusk;
Nibbled nets
Nest with
Lumbered
Lobster pots,
Lovingly abandoned.
My response to the challenge is the evocation of the sun going down on the beach, where the fishing huts feel ‘ lovingly abandoned’ for the night after a hard day’s work; there is also a deeper sadness in the ‘creaking’ wood and the ‘nibbled nets’ of a disappearing industry as youngsters move away to work: ‘purple dust turns to dusk’ and skills and experience die out.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/12/photo-challenge-the-golden-hour
Amid the dunes
Little Terns cry,
Sweep and dive,
Performing
Majestic aerial acrobatics.
A sleek vision in white
With dashes of charcoal;
They flurry about with pride.
House proud,
Cleaning and preening,
Warding off slithering Adders
And swooping Black Gulls
Their breeding village is protected
With fences which
Zap you,
‘Woe betide’
The curious rambler.
Rambling
Feeling free like red,
Blue and violet scarves
Swirling in saline breeze
Memories of Tibetan
Prayer flags.
Glinting earth jewels
Entrancing, pebbles
With faces like seals.
Radiant solar warmth shines
On gently crashing waves,
Voices of the sea singing
Nature’s forever
Healing grace.
Shyly, waves recede,
Frothing like a delicate
Lace mantle.
Planting footsteps,
Trailing,
Pushing through the
Persistant breeze,
Upwards finally
Reaching a safe place
Where hunger is
Satisfied with
Future positive dreams.
One wild, dangerous night,
Church bells, deep in the sea
Chimed furiously at midnight.
Flickering flame from a fisherman’s
Lantern suddenly snuffed out
As rolling waves
Roared to a crescendo.
Turbulent sea churned spitting out
Remnants of the night.
The message in the sand.
A mingle of footprints trail
Away from dissipating
Stormy weather,
Churning, spitting waves
Calmly flow into frothy,
Lacy edged, salty waves;
Spicy jewels, gleaming sea glass,
Glinting quartz and
Tiny scallop shells peep
Up from soft, warm wetness.
Lavender Moon: Artist, Poet and Lover of Nature 
You must be logged in to post a comment.