Reflections 2019 w25

The wind blew at my strapped down Tilly hat as I crested the hill that was once a fort at Dinas Dinlle, sea spray travelling over the land in a fine mist, leaving the taste of salt with each heavy breath.

I love these dog walks with Spot.

My heart pounds with the exertion my body has with the short but sudden climb, lungs filling with fresh, clean air; Welsh air. I hear only the sound of the wind and crashing waves, glad I am not trying to fight the sea to catch a fish or two, not even the bleating of the sheep can be heard. I know not if they are hiding in a far off field or just behind the wall, silently waiting for the wind to die down. Even the seagulls hang in the air as though they are in a painted seaside scene.

The only other people I can see in this quiet place are other dog walkers, some are clearly taking pleasure in the weather, others look like they wish they had cats. It’s not cold, but some are dressed like it was the middle of winter, accompanied by a bloke in shorts. My smile as we pass seems to convey my humour at the sight, much to the annoyance of the person wrapped up, which in turn makes me smile more. Not in a mean way…OK it might be a little mean.

I never get bored of doing the same walks over and over again at the coast, or in the countryside. I find a peace with the empty space, a quiet in the natural sounds, the voice in my head has nothing to find fault with that cannot be easily forgotten by something to see. Yes I may just sit and cry, emotionless, yet calm. Not knowing why, but accepting the release of pressure.

These are the times I know there is hope, because these are the times I do not need to lean on the medication.

They just do not happen often enough. But I am Grateful that they do at least happen.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2019

My Fish…Poem

My Fish

 

My fish is smart, it talks to me,

with word it cannot speak.

From the bottom gravel sucks,

n’ spits at glass to squeak.

 

To my corner will it come

and check that I have heard.

If I’ve not, around he turn,

with tail he splash absurd.

 

He swims around to catch my eye,

he’s darting to and fro.

His last resort, the snail will suck,

and off with thunk he go.

 

Attention caught, he will then mouth,

abuse I swear he shouts.

Your late again! It’s dinner time,

he acts like local louts?

 

He will not rest, nor peace he give

until he has his food.

I know not what’s, within these flakes,

but it rids him of his mood.

 

A § M 

14/05/2018

Reflections 2019 w24

Oh I do hate misplacing things, especially after one has searched, and sorted all the draws and bags I could have placed it. I have spent 4hrs searching/sorting and still no joy.

I so want some of the information held within its pages for tomorrow, but I have exhausted all ideas where there notepad could have been placed.

I thought I placed it in the drawer there when it was filled, but no, I did not.

I found the notepad prior to the one I am after, which got filled before the date I am after, and I am positive I have not thrown the following pad away.

I guess it will turn up eventually, but not alas today.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2019

 

You Know It’s…#Poem

You Know It’s …

 

It’s on the tip of my tongue,

yet it’s miles away.

It’s gone in a flash, 

when come time to say.

 

Where does it go to?

Where does it hide?

I know it’s not out there,

it’s somewhere inside.

 

It’s like I am trying,

butterflies to catch.

Have no net to help me,

in vegetable patch.

 

How did I get here?

It’s not where I was.

But when you start chasing,

all focus it has.

 

A change of direction,

for it to be saught.

It’s doing its utmost,

remaining un-caught. 

 

No longer care whether

it was important or not.

Catch it to just prove,

I’ve not lost the plot.

 

The others they don’t care,

it left me, it’s gone.

For subject has now changed,

they dropped it – moved on.

 

But still I keep searching,

my “it” I will find.

I wake in the darkness,

it’s now come to mind.

 

I will say it out loud,

for no-one to hear.

Then turn over grinning,

from ear to ear.

 

20/07/2018

A § M 

    

Reflections 2019 w23

The path at the allotment is two slabs, yet to get, away from being finished. A little bit of planting to do, and that is the plot design finished till later on in the year when I complete the greenhouse, if it does not get swapped, hence the no rush approach.

My sons happy memory toy, the opposite of his worry monster, I did not like the idea he had only an unpleasant memory storage system, has been finished and passed onto my son. His design on paper became an actual thing.

I know it’s not a perfect match, but he was warned it was my first time doing a zipper, along the belly, and that I was going to do Hop in one go, no prototypes to alter the pattern.

It was a strange creation, where I learnt a couple of lessons about batting and sewing machines. The zipper was not perfect (the belly), but it works, that is all I was asking of it.I kept it straight as it was my first one.

Skill will come with practice.

So, onto the next project…Another experimental piece, for someone at group. Thankfully it is a painting this time, with a twist.

One has also scheduled more poems, this take me up to September now.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2019

 

Rain…#Poem

Rain

 

Pitter Patter, pitter pat,

rain is landing on my hat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat, 

lightning strikes to scare the cat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat,

in little brook there swims a rat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat, 

through the soft mud, splat, splat, splat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat,

make a splash in puddle flat.

 

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

from hat falling, plop, plop, plop.

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

in sheltered doorway, little stop.

Drip by drip and drop by drop, 

floats on past a bottle top.

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

soaks the litter by the shop.

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

back to home – with a hoppity hop.

A § M 

28/1/2018

Reflections 2019 w22

One went up to the allotment today, armed with a paving slab and a couple of bags of sand, and rearranged the top half of the path for the third, and last, time.

Luckily the weeding on the no dig beds is super quick and easy, meaning one can keep on top of the plot at the same time as doing all the maul jobs.

I am looking forward to finishing the last bits now, just so I can relax and plant/harvest.

But what do I wear???

The rain’s coming in with a big drop in temperature, but when it stops and the sun comes out I’m cooking. And that has been in the space of an hour.

One cannot plan for the afternoon.

One can truly say that one is grateful for the shed, and green tea.

This time next year I will have the shed organised and the greenhouse competed/organised, so seeds can be sown and seedlings transplanted while the rain is a pouring.

There is a calm that comes with sowing seeds and pricking out plants…When your not balancing the trays.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2019

The Shopping Bag …#Poem

The Shopping Bag

 

Shopping bags 

of plastic made.

Use fabric ones, 

till corners fade.

 

Leather ones,

of decades past.

Still stand strong,

‘twere made t’ last.

 

But all will fall,

close or flop.

When time it comes 

t’ pack the shop.

 

Open – they stay,

all down the isle.

Till reach the checkout

with a smile.

 

Down items slide

to the checkout well.

Make bags collapse,

were standing still.

 

Milk is used,

to prop inside.

Turn – it falls,

 takes down the side.

 

I’ve propped it up,

turn – it stands.

I’ve fallen behind,

 so use both hands!

 

Bag it closes,

to block the food.

Now i’m cursing,

change of mood.

 

Cashier firing,

goods down fast.

As though I vexed them,

in the past.

 

No longer bagging,

but trolley fill.

Get to my car,

then bag I will.

 

A § M 

14/04/2018

    

Reflections 2019 w21

This is going to be quick, I’m Knackered.

Apart from hanging around waiting for people to have appointments the only thing I have done is the allotment.

This week I have planted my red current bush and cherry bush. 6 of the rubble bags have been taken to the skip. And the top half (90%) of the path laid out…To be rearranged earlier today, because I did not like the angle of approach from the gate to the half already laid. Only two slabs short from meeting in the middle.

More bushes are there to be planted, and that is the plan, working around more appointments, for this week.

I am so glad I am nearly finished.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/