january 6

Washing hanging from the balcony above whips and snaps across the sun - a  crazy chiaroscuro shadow play flares and fades across the kitchen wall.

january 5

The low growl of thunder in the night sounded like a distant building falling and the rain seemed like the splintering, shattering glass of all its windows.

January 4

The bell suspended amongst the vines chimes softy, measuring the wind and and the pauses between the gusts.

January 3

The tea arrived in a lilac teapot; the saucer was the colour of watermelon and on it a glowing yellow buttercup waited to be filled with the pale gold of the green tea, a veritable feast for the senses.

January 2

It's not always going to be possible for me to post online. I'm also in the way of thinking that it isn't always desirable either, I want to write not thinking about an audience, even one, hovering over my shoulder, beak and eyes sharpened.
So today we went out - I don't think I had been out of the house since Christmas day actually - ostensibly for me to get some vegan cheese and margarine. We were both taken by surprise, swathed as we were in scarves and hats, because despite the leaden grey sky, it wasn't actually cold at all. There were hardly any people about, we had the shops to ourselves.No cheese until after befana though. Later I made vegetable curry and then flapjacks - the first fj's I've made in donkeys years and by the look and the aroma, too few oats and too much goo went into the mix. Onward and upward.

A discarded cardboard box languishes in the gutter , trampled and consumed by rain and wind, the promise and pleasure of its gifted contents already forgotten.

January 1 2014 Mindful Writing Challenge

This is my third year of taking the Mindful Writing Challenge. I didn't post every day the first year and I probably wrote some embarrassingly bad stuff, nevertheless, a new world opened. I did post every day the second year and I definitely wrote some etc etc. This year I've decided to add a further challenge - no half baked attempt at poetry  - no line breaks at all - simple prose all the way. To help make this work I'm going to incorporate the small stones into ordinary diary observations, because I really want to try and improve my writing.The biggest challenge will be, as ever, to leave out I, my and me me me in the actual stone....I'm sure the usual motifs will be there, evocative aromas, laughing seagulls, ghost cats, invented words, and the sea.


Despite the night rain, this first of the year has been another fine bright day. For some odd reason, perhaps a subconscious commitment to getting more done in the new year, I clear out the herbs and spices nightmare cupboard and Stef, seeking to meet me half way, lowers the shelf a notch - he still can't reach the top shelf but we have an understanding, I put the more exotic herbs and spices on the top, those most used at the bottom. And he can always shout. I hang out some washing, noting the bright greenity of the baby lemons and how lush the hanging geranium is looking. I wonder if the cherry will blossom prematurely like last year.

The air is full of fresh light and the perfume of burning wood.

High above, a seagull laughs.


A small sweet  breeze snakes around the washing, catching at arms, sneaking through legs, and snuffling at the neck of my favourite sweater.