Monday, 31 October 2016


Last day of October. The leaves are turning and falling and the clocks have turned so the darkness falls faster than ever. The pumpkins are carved and later we'll light the fire outside and toast marshmallows. We'll eat lentil ragu and pecan tart. There'll be baked apples with fruit soaked in sloe gin and served with brown sugar and whipped cream. It's the night of ghouls and ghosts. There's a wolf boy in the sitting room and an un-dead cowboy playing Lego upstairs and a teenager (scary in its own right) and I've just spooked myself listening to Short Cuts on Radio 4 - the Witching Hour... happy Hallowe'en!

Friday, 28 October 2016


Just for you - fresh flowers from the garden and the promise of the weekend to retreat to, to wrap yourself up in and to restore your spirit...go gently.

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

October sun

Thank you Mother Nature for October days. It's cold, yes. We light the fire every night. It's time to pull on woollen jumpers and dig out the coats. But the morning light! That burning glow of cosmic energy. And then blue skied days with enough chill to make noses run and fingers tingle.

Saturday, 15 October 2016

morning ritual

It's raining. And with the darkened mornings and it being the weekend we've had a slow start to the day. I have a mountain of laundry that would make even Ranulph Fiennes think twice. There's a sleeping teenager upstairs to be negotiated, gently does it. But first coffee, toast and marmalade, candles and the book that's tantalisingly close to being finished. Perhaps if I stay really, really quiet no-one will notice me...

Wednesday, 12 October 2016

morning dazzle

Who knows why, maybe the hormones flooded my brain at the same time the world turned on its axis, the light in the sky and the mist rising from the land, the stillness of the air, maybe it was just the oxygen fizzing in my bloodstream as I walked up the hill but I felt, how I felt those words of Ted Hughes ~

That morning dazzle stamped every cell in my body 
With its melting edge, its lime-bitter brightness.

The Morning before Christmas, Ted Hughes, River

Sunday, 9 October 2016


After a week of school, work and the usual stress of running to afternoon activities I decided that the woods were what was needed. I made hot chocolate and brownies, threw the wellies in the car and collected the boys from school. We went to our favourite spot where the river makes a gentle meander and there's a fallen tree for picnic-ing on. We gathered branches, leaves and ferns to make boats before unpacking the warm drinks and mugs. We decided to race our boats, whoever got under the bridge first was the winner. Mide crossed the water, hopping over slippery stones while Will crafted his sailing vessel. The river took our offerings and made easy work of my leaves and flimsy sticks. Will fared better - his boat didn't get caught on the rocks and made it to the finish line. We made a woodland sprite for others to find and we went on our way, back through those tall trees who have been here longer than us, past the sloping banks leading down to the water, past the mushrooms and the fallen leaves, up and out and back into our busy lives but so grateful for the woods, the waters and the wild.