In out in out you shake it all about.

I never fully understood the phrase ‘coming out of the woodwork’ until today. Today was marvellous. In my neighbourhood, one of the many hills, or ‘down’s’ of Bath, it was busy. People were active. Out and about, and on a mission. In my own street, where I have lived for 6 years, I saw over…

Tree within a tree

I did not seek it out. Nor am I arrogant enough to think it sought out me. Yet there it was: Framed beautifully. Time had hollowed out the frame, Yet made a perfect aperture. To view a life vicariously, when leaves trembled and quivered. A panoply of green. As if The Green man had paused,…

Desire

During the Summer I bought a bonsai plant. Within the dingy bowels of IKEA on a plinth with its siblings, it demanded my attention. Amidst a desolate forest of tangled and warped trunks I saw a figure worthy of a reclining Modigliani. Gustave Klimt could not have captured the sensuality of the gait that I…

Affinity

Affinity teases me. It is a cunning form of deja vu that soothes my soul, and it always appears unexpectedly. I can be woefully distracted, but a scent, sound, sight or texture can snag my attention; leaving me haunted by a connection that I should recognise, but do not. I always welcome these moments. Affinity…

Hare today, gone tomorrow.

It is over fifteen years since I saw my first hare. I suppose I must have glimpsed one before that, but it was a backward glance over a fallow field one late June afternoon in 2001 that allowed me to lock eyes with one. Fierce, he was. I remember him intensely; his curved, honey-hued back…

The Mourning moon

The moon signifies renewal for me, and always will. I am grateful for the sun and love it dearly, but the moon is my first love. In its ever-changing, wax-waning, crescent-swelling phases it reflects all the beauty and unpredictability of life and love. No wonder then that this November moon is known as the Mourning…

Memento

In the midst of clearing my garden of autumn leaves, I discovered something. Beneath a sodden layer of leaves I found a small colony of pebbles and stones, placed in the flowerbed in spring time. Despite months of rain and dew, beneath the veiny thatch they were perfectly dry, as they were when I wrote…

The panacea of Cader Idris

I know a place so intimately that I can summon both its scent and textures. I can recall its sightest sounds, and if I focus keenly, even conjure the feel of the air that moves there. The paths and rocks are etched in to my bones, and my heart and soul pine for them. No…

Is this a mocking joke?

Ah November. Cradle of the falling leaves. Ye countdown to Christmas with your thermostat swivelling, present squirreling, daytime dwindling…and mocks. Year 11 mocks. That time of the year when schools frighten their fifth year cohort by giving them a glimpse of what is to come. Mock GCSE exam preparation for them, and for us teachers…

A picture paints…

I adore dreams, and I crave them intensely. The combination of vividness and adrenaline they subject me to is intoxicating, and always too brief. Often though, the echo of a dream is almost as precious. In the fleeting wafts of recollection there is something precious, and all the more so because those impressions are soon…