yearning for spring

purple and pink, four tulips stand up straight in the stone vase.  a fifth stretches its head towards the lacy curtain.

gray blue mist hovers under smoldering sunset.  a single frosted tree in the middle of an empty field.

come look!

morning sun catches the blue glass vase on the shelf, sending a variegated strip of blue light down the corridor.
it's nice to notice these things, it's also nice to be shown them.

waiting for the night bus

moonlit frost on glass
shadow branches on frost
etchings on etchings

not paying attention

a handful of chocolates
gone
I didn't even taste them

breakfast

wooden spoon glides through creamy white porridge

after midnight

Bright pink gloves
green sponge
soapy bubbles


I unwind after a long day

washing up
only washing up
nothing more

chores

dead coriander plant
unwashed dishes
dripping tap.
so many things to do!
what a joy
to be here
and be able to.

washing up

frost filters the morning sun
cluster of yellow petals
- carnations bought before Christmas -
glow gently in a white window pane frame

patrona

her umbrella protected me from the drops that fell from the sky
but not from her eyes

come on in, the water is fine!

If you have spent even 5 seconds on this blog, you'll know that a lot of it is dedicated to writing small stones.*  This all started earlier this year when I took the challenge to participate in Fiona and Kaspa's River of Stones in January.  I got the email from them sometime in the Autumn last year and read it, thought "hmm, that's interesting", and then starred it in my inbox but hadn't really thought to follow through and participate.  Then for the next few weeks (or however long it was) a little voice popped up in my mind everytime I opened my inbox: "you should sign up for this"  Me: "shush you, I'm too busy".  The battle went on in my head until eventually, I'm not actually sure why, I emailed them and told them to put me on the list, that I was taking the plunge and participating in the January River of Stones.  

Even so, I was still pretty sure that I was going to A) suck and B) not have the discipline to follow through with this.

Whatever.  I was committed now!

January came and, I have to say, I was so surprised by what participating in the River of Stones brought into my life.  I didn't have to write anything "good", I just had to pay attention and write about that.  I didn't travel to some sort of exotic place.  I didn't have to make witty observations about my surroundings.  I didn't have to make some sort of cultural commentary.  In fact, I didn't do anything differently than before and absolutely nothing changed in my day to day life except that I was paying closer attention to it than before.  And then trying to capture it.  And as I tried to capture it, I saw myself looking at everything more closely, in more detail.  It seemed to me that I heard more, felt more, saw more.  Somewhere, hidden under all the mundane, everyday, I've-seen-and-heard-it-before-sameness, was a rich world that I had never appreciated before.  Birdsong, sunrise, matchlight, a stranger's smile, my walk to work, grief, all came to life in a new way.

And if all that wasn't enough, there was a bonus that I had never even thought of: reading other small stones and connecting with their writers!  (and being inspired by them and trying not to be jealous of their gorgeous pebbles!)

So with all that said, I'm very excited to see that Fiona and Kaspa will be lifting the floodgates again this January and the River of Stones will soon be overflowing its banks and splashing out of a blog near you (this one, in fact).

Now the question is: will you be joining me?

Learn all about writing small stones here and then come on in, really, the water is fine.  More than fine, in fact. 

*(writing experience not required)

favourite shirt

it's not cold, but i'm shivering.
i button up my autumn-hued, checked flannel shirt
closing my eyes, i feel the warmth of home embrace me

I eat my porridge more carefully here
exploring each spoonful to find bits of oat husk with my teeth.
they sit in a little pile
on a scrap of paper
next to my bowl.

rain-speckled wind clears the cobwebs
i smile to the sun

everything readjusts to fill the emptiness of time

the distractions busy you

and allow you to put that which is not in sight

slowly out of mind 

(as the saying goes)

the spaces grow smaller

the gaps fewer

and the distance greater

pasta

the taste of garlic, roasted to perfection by accident, breaks through all the other ingredients to delight my tongue.

a handful of stones

Am very pleased to say that October 15th's small stone appeared in the handful of stones blogzine on the 15th of November.  (there's a bit of symmetry there that I didn't see until just now!)

Another one is scheduled for December.  :)

unexpected company

My luxury for the weekend: a creamy, ripe avocado.
A moment's hesitation before I split it open to share
it won't last as long now
but it will be twice as appreciated

the perfect tension of the surface jiggles as another drop from the tap falls into the pan of water that it has been filling, patiently, one drop at a time, all night.  I watch the water bubble become fuller and fuller, wondering how much it can take before it bursts and spills over.  And then begins again, like it's done before. 

meeting the neighbours

twin beagle puppies, an old wheezy calico and the owner of the knitting shop all say hello to me on my way home from the office.