In a heatwave

An ice cream van in a sunburnt field. Sheep crowd around it.

Seniors walk slowly to church down a leafy lane. They stop to gaze at the black water of the water lily pond.

Tall river of swaying grass follows the curves of the brook. The brightest green around.

Becalmed. A few hundred yards from shore, small boats wait for the breeze in a bobbing crowd.

Out of the mist

White beach loungers, optimistic for the weekend.

Coils of worm casts emerging. Pristine spirals, dark on the sand.

Standing in the empty dance hall of the beached pier. A tango on my iPod.

Ropes on the wreckage. Hauled in with an orange pennant.

Out of the shallows, he emerges with fishing spear in hand. His dragged yellow net holds the silver writhing of bream and mullet. As he tips his catch onto the sand for me to see, scales fly onto my black shirt. They glint blue and gold as I move. With a handful of sea lettuce and a brown speckled lobster, it looks like a beautiful still life on the mirror sand. 

And then it rained

And then it rained.

In the morning

the first sweet peas

perfume my desk.

Next

The rare luxury of low tide sand for a couple of miles. It doesn't happen here very often. So it felt even more special tonight. I went out there after work to have my cobwebs blown away from having a hectic time these last few weeks. 

Better now, though feeling I could sleep for a week.

Now that I have a bit more space, it's been interesting to look back at some collages that I've made, all sparked off by this post from Robyn last week. I have to be honest and say that what interested me most about this idea was that it only takes a few minutes each day. I was curious to see what came up. So, I've done it these last 5 days. 

Busy busy busy me in need of holiday wasn't expecting what arose. 

Pulled from magazines and newspapers with no expectation in mind, they make me laugh out loud. Not a great shot of this, the first collage, but the words I stuck on the little Summer house roof say - "Do more." 

DO MORE?!!!

 

I know. 

There aren't enough hours in the day.

Or are there?                                                          

June fruits

Two spots of rain fell in the last week. I nearly missed them. The soil is rock hard and the new plants are struggling to find enough water.

The lavenders are happy, though and are just beginning to throw out scent. The courgettes and pumpkins are just starting to lift themselves to the heat challenge after a couple of weeks of feeling sorry to be moved from the greenhouse to the weather blast of a plot in full sun. 

Thymes and sages are in flower, the fennels are just starting to bush out and the rosemary smells wonderful every time you brush past it.

Plans are afoot to make the finest batch of gooseberries so far into crumble. More currants, raspberries and strawberries are ripening, in fact the whole plot is fragrant with them at the moment. The radishes are pristine and radiant deep pink. The baby corn is curling out some more glossy leaves. The first sweet peas will be in flower soon. Apples seem to be bigger each time I look at them.

Yesterday, these were ready. 

Something to see at every turn. Worth every ounce of that hard work. And good to have it while I'm busy with lots of writing on my desk.

Redcurrants

This is the first Summer I have managed to get to the ripe currants before the birds have invited their friends over to my fruit bar. 

Much as I hate meshing everything into cages and contraptions, it's the only way to ensure that you get to eat what you planted. 

There's lots more to ripen, but for now, there's only one thing to do......

Adorned

May pole traffic light. Adorned. Stickered. 

The papers fade to fluttering thin ribbons that fly in the traffic gasp.

 

Bands of gig flyers wrap around the post, like cloth hopes on a holy tree, like Celtic borders circle a tanned arm, like wristbands worn long after the festival is over.

Dictation

Blue skies at 10 pm. 

As a child, I remember lying in bed watching the patterns on my bedroom curtains turning pink in the late Western sunsets of midsummer. I was meant to be asleep. As the room glowed like a fire ready to flare back into life, I used to practice singing every song I could recall. Some nights, I was still singing after dark.

I just watched the last blue fall from tonight's sky, waited til late before turning on the lamp. I won't need to do any singing tonight, but there's a poem flitting in me. It comes and goes, trying out phrases. It seems to like muttering to itself. 

I am trying to do dictation.

Midday

In the dull pink of midday, I watch a storm that will not come to shore. 

The calmest sea. It gasps and sways like a restless open-mouthed stranger sleeping opposite you on a train. In this unsettling light, this high tide seems half hearted. It slinks. Tries to be quiet. No stone shifting today. 

Hypnotic to watch the endless patterns that form on the end of an old wooden groyne, the rise and fall of the not quite circles, the not quite squares seem to flood over themselves, like small seas with tides of their own. 

I skim a smooth stone. I like the longs and shorts of it's six note tune and the final distant gulp. And as the slow circles of those skips span out, mackerel spear into the air like blue black knives heading for the slate horizon.

Adventures

Like a runaway tattoo, written on 7th June last year, was my first piece on Ink haven. 

I just re-read it and realized how much it says about me even though I was writing about our wonderful English rain and my fascination with ink. I had written in my profile that I "wanted to see if blogging might be a fun way to get back into daily writing again," not realizing that the blogging adventures had already begun with my first click on the publish button.

Since picking up the pen last June, there has been no shortage of daily writing. A year later, it's great to look back at some of the old posts here, some of which arose "in the moment"on screen without my usual pen and paper. 

However, the best and most surprising thing about blogging is YOU. Having people read, comment, follow or become blog buddies has been a real boost for me, as have the blog awards that I have been honoured to receive, including a recent one from Cynthia.

Finding projects to take part in and seeing my pieces on other pages has been a great way for me to take my work forward. So, thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has responded to my work and for the inspiration generated by the work of so many creative folks. It's great to be in touch.

Speaking of which, inspired by Seth's invitation on The Altered Page here's a shot of one of my inspiration boards. I had a quick tidy up and found a few things I had forgotten about beneath the layers that flapped dryly in the breeze from the window. 

Plenty for me to gaze at as I pick up my pen today. Wishing everyone lots more blogging adventures. Ax

Burnished

Walking the route the other way round, I'm surprised to see more of those dramatic clipped views of a sea framed inside the white angles of the town. Outlooks my back got to see.

Tantalizing as that mirrored bowl the kids want to pick up and lick, the last ice cream swirls escape the spoon. Burnished beside the brushed, the palest blue metal is calling my feet towards a dusk horizon.

Siesta

Above my siesta, blue tits mend the purple shadows with the finest Summer thread.