A Stitch plus a Stitch

When I was a little girl I would sing the birds from the trees: wander wondrous landscapes; dance through golden fields; watch fox cubs playing in bluebell woods and kingfishers diving into bubbling brooks. My words would spill over onto the page. Oh, to be a child ... 

                                                                                              

Danglingly

'What do you do?' 

she asked very directly.

A moment of silence fell between us.

I struggled – embarrassed.

It came out danglingly on the tip of my tongue

 – my confession.

She smiles. 

She understood.

I was suddenly very shy.

There was a sense of magic in the air.

But this is not about me,

it is about her.

An unexpected generosity bubbled in her words as she spoke with a down-to-earth,

getting-to-the-point, putting-it-down-on-paper sort of way.

It reflected itself in every tiny detail of the room.

Nothing was out of place.

'I'm glad you told me,' she said.

'I didn't want to.'

'Why not?'

'Because it might have gotten in the way.'

'Well I'm glad that you did.

Look where it has taken us.'

It is that conversational thing

that I wanted to avoid.

Better to ask the questions and listen to the answers

than to volunteer one's self as a sacrifice on a first visit.

Tactics, we all use them,

but she was one ahead of me.

I fell at the first hurdle.

I have decided to have a little fun just writing stuff and enjoying it. It may be a story or a snippet, a thought.... so please feel free to respond if you wish. Your words can help in the process and will be rewarded with improvement on my part.

taking the 'ordinary' and making it extra-ordinary, whereas it is not ordinary at all. 

'Her eyes betrayed her. 
She shied away, her emotions as raw as the sharp edge of a kitchen knife. She took her pain and stabbed it into the table, scattering the silver-wear that had been used daily in their everyday lives. 
That which had been so precious - taken for granted, was now tarnished beyond repair; ........'

I have begun on a journey

it began with a word
the first word on the page 

a real word,
creating a 'real world' 

now I am beginning to understand ........

welcome

Welcome.
The view here this morning is open blue. Wide skies and a level of misty clouds lay on the hills. Sunlight seeps through, casting patches of light onto the quiet sea.
A buzzard lands on a post and settles. Tiny birds flit back and forth between the nearby trees.
All is silent, waking, anticipating.
A sharp light flashes. The silent white yell of the Strumble Head lighthouse, warns passing ships.
A gush of seagulls suddenly scream into the stillness and are gone.
Bright rays of brilliant sunlight move over the land towards the edge, where sharp sea cliffs glow.
Ravens take to the air, their cries loud and sharp, cutting into the flesh of this new day.
Sunbeams bleed down into Witches Cauldron, flooding it with daylight.
It's sea becomes bright blue.
God's arm reaches down into Cardigan Bay.
A breath gently runs its fingers through the dry, golden grass of late summer.
Seed heads rattle in the breeze.
Noisy young geese fly overhead -  looking to land in Willie's field. 
A child steps out into the vastness and the wonder of it all,
feeling very, very small......