Day 67
My brain feels starved of words this morning. Although the sun is shining. Ebbs and flows. Occasionally, a monastic existence has its attractions; the repetition of rituals, the sense of… Continue Reading
Browsing Category: Writing
Day 66
When I look to the horizon beyond our compact garden, I imagine I can hear the sound of the bombardments in Ukraine. It might seem fanciful, but I remember my… Continue Reading
Day 65
Another fragmentary. I’m copyrighting that noun. A miniature daffodil has come out in the garden. I spend too much time writing these posts. My mind is perpetually racing with hat… Continue Reading
Day 64
M really dislikes it when I say the damp gets into my bones. But this morning, my back is aching, my joints are stiff, and I’ve been awake on and… Continue Reading
Day 63
Every day presents us with new dilemmas. I feel guilty for being weary. I am not a refugee. I am not being threatened by an army. I am not being… Continue Reading
Day 62
Being a parent is an unceasing attack on your vulnerabilities. I did start writing a book about the motional impacts of parenting, but it stalled. I suppose the reasons are… Continue Reading
Day 61
One of the first things I was told about writing poetry was “Only write what you know about. Don’t write about things you see on the TV.” I always thought… Continue Reading
Day 60
Fragmentary. It could almost be a noun like reliquary (container or shrine in which sacred relics are kept). A container or shrine in which fragmented thoughts are kept. A sense… Continue Reading
Day 59
I did manage to put the gravel where I wanted it. I didn’t find the chisel, though. Not that I looked very hard. I am not on of nature’s natural… Continue Reading
Day 58
Just now, I paused at the midway point between the house and the study, where neither wifi signal quite reaches my phone, stood in the sun and the incessant wind,… Continue Reading