This year we seem to have been dancing back and forth, dallying between the seasons on a daily basis.
Since April arrived, we have been thrust back into winter. Those balmy February days which turned my head and had me harbouring thoughts of an early spring seem a long way back. Continue reading “The View from Here: snatches of spring”
And in making her choice, the squirrel – generous squirrel – has granted me the opportunity to join her at her table.
This morning I watched a squirrel, sleek and plump. The squirrel and I are at eye level. We are each intent upon breakfast: I, dallying safe in my warm kitchen in our inverted home built from bricks and glass, cocooned and disconnected from what it really means to be in the throes of life, and he, moving freely in a habitat more suited to his wild and precious nature where every sight, sound and smell weaves a story in his brain about how to survive. He is intent on his task and seemingly oblivious to my silent presence, tidied away behind the glass and safely distanced from those sensory signals that shout ‘danger’. Continue reading “The View from Here: a tentative return”
I had accepted that for the moment I can’t write – nothing publishable at least. It will pass. But snippets, fragments, jottings coalesced without my noticing… into what I would be writing about if I could.
Earlier today I accepted that, for whatever reason, at the moment I can’t write. I have the ideas but not the capacity to create anything from them. I was explaining this in a reply to Margaret at From Pyrenees to Pennines.
Margaret, thankfully, is much more prolific and consistent than I am. Among other posts on her blog, she provides a one-word stimulus every Tuesday here at Ragtag Daily Prompts. She has provided three so far, each one chiming absolutely with things I want to capture. Every week I want to respond – it just doesn’t happen. And I was explaining this to Margaret in a comment on her latest post. Until I realised that without thinking about it, I was writing what’s been eluding me these past weeks. Continue reading “The View from Here: when the words don’t come”
The panorama is surreal, alien, unique
The view from here is harsh and it takes no prisoners
I may have been eager for what has seemed like an especially long winter to end, but a small part of me has been glad we have had to wait for a run of reliable spring days, because I have been writing about Dungeness in winter. A task which doesn’t sit easily among vistas of skipping lambs and primroses, soft blue skies and playful breezes. Continue reading “The View from Here: Dungeness”
The view from here on this soft and mellow April afternoon has been filled with small and simple joys
We have sunshine. I took a longer walk than usual, striding along the top road with the warm wind in my hair, skylarks singing in the heavens and solitary seagulls hanging at jaunty angles against the clear blue sky. I checked the wires for newcomers. The wires were empty. Soon, I thought.
Soon. Continue reading “The View from Here: on an afternoon in April”
They were displaying all day: soaring on the updrafts above the fields across the valley. But now comes something quite different. Continue reading “The View from Here: Buzzards in March”
… in the space between International Women’s Day and Mothering Sunday
For a week or so, I have been considering drafting a Mother’s Day post. It would have been one of my rambles, perhaps on my role as a mother and as a daughter. But today (I am writing on Thursday March 8th) leaves me wanting to pare down my usual florid style and take a different tack. In the end, I don’t know that I’ve done a lot of paring. But what I want to say matters to me. It stands as it is. Continue reading “The View from Here: thoughts…”