Awake August #18

Scratchy heatblasted  August, early summer's fecundity has withered with the already falling leaves.There are no flowers to offer, only these mediterranean gifts, some basil and parsley and a few small olive branches and their reminder of peace and hope.

Awake August #17

The oscillating fan is a lighthouse, sending out beams of coolness that cut and slice the dark heavy heat.

Awake August 16

Preparing lunch in the honeyed light of the kitchen, my husband sanding wood in the next room, a cat weaving around my legs, the 12.30 bus revving up the hill, and the squeak of garlic against knife.

Awake August 15

While celebrating the full moon with a simple ceremony, I breath the fragrant weight and completeness of the cup, the warmth of the circle within and without, endless spaciousness in my hands.

Awake August 14

Skeins of cloud usher in a cooler morning; the fridge hums a happier song.

Awake August 13

Grey falls like a soft blanket over the blue, summer raindrops thud slowly onto the garden umbrella.

Awake August 12

Pausing, I stood between the damp billowing sheets, enjoying their cool lavender caress.

Awake August 11

Making tea I realise that part of the intrinsic pleasure is cupping the warm body of the teapot, feeling how its roundness fits into the palm of my hand.

Awake August 10

Three small butterflies dance along the geranium hedge, accompanied by the music of the city and the unwavering attention of the white cat.

Awake August 9

On the vets table she is stilled by fear, her eyes, usually an inscrutable jade, are huge and deeply black in her small triangle face. Holding her, I feel her heart pounding like a tiny drum. She suffers in profound silence.

Awake August 8

Rival gangs of young blackbirds fighting raucously for figs scatter suddenly to their separate roofs. The cat is sneaking up the tree.

Awake August 7

Washing the dishes - loving and revisiting and remembering the texture and colour of each item, its history, its use, the feel of it in water and out - knowing that I'm washing the dishes.

Awake August 6

Grating cucumber, the smell of cool green

Awake August 5

The landscape of siesta, late afternoon sun setting on a crumpled bed of roses.

Awake August 4

Sitting by an open window something in the movement of the air reminds me of my schooldays. Summer, the science lab, cherry trees.

Awake August 3

Roiling water, mint tasting steam.

Awake August 2

Stringing chillies, singing workman, breaking tiles and tinkling teaspoons, coffee flavoured breeze.

Awake August 2016

As in other years, I've taken on a Mindful Writing Challenge, initiated by Kaspalita Thompson and Satya Robyn ofWriting Our Way Home. I may not be able to post something every day, so the titles refer to the number of the piece, not the date it was written. Sometimes there will be images too. Here's some more info about this years challenge.....

Wake up and become more mindful this August

Write a *small stone* everyday – forget your worries, deeply connect with the world around you, and produce beautiful writing
 This August join people all over the world as they write a few words, a short poem, or a few prose sentences about what they find in the world.

Post your writing in our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1561310334178086/ or on twitter with the #AwakeAugust




So here's my first....

In the 7.00 am stillness of a ticking clock and a distant pigeon calling, the sudden noise of a passing lorry fills space like an inflating balloon, pops, then is gone. The pigeon calls still, the clock ticks on.