The Return of Muse

Hello Friends!

Just the other day something unexpected happened. Long have I said my writing Muse has been on extended vacation, and there were times I felt she'd upped and left with no intention of returning. For so long I have felt I've just told you about my photos in a near clinical way instead of with my usual flourishes and curlicues,  but then, last Friday, I had an unexpected trip to a nearby beach and all that changed in an instant. You see, this was so unexpected I got well and truly caught out, for my camera was at home and for the first time in a long time I was "out and about" without it.

Shock! 

Horror!
Blind Panic!

What was I to do? The offer was made, it was too good to pass up, and I had to go there and then with no time to return home for my trusty friend, so off I went. It was a glorious day and the opportunity too good to pass up. I was near to tears without my camera, and feeling strangely alien not holding it in my hands ready to snap away, biting at the opporunities to shoot. As we drove along, all I could think was, "oh! look at that!" "that would be a great shot" or "isn't it a shame I don't have my camera" and so on until the unexpected happened {as it always tends to do when you least expect it, or aren't looking for it} I had one of those epiphany moments and suddenly realised I was letting this get in the way of me enjoying the moment. What do they call that? I think it is Mindfulness?

After getting over the initial shock of being camera~less, I found I had stopped looking at everything from a compositional viewpoint and was no longer subconsciously analysing how it would fit in the frame; I became aware that I was engaging with what was right there in front of me for the first time in a long time. It is astonishing how the camera has changed how I look at the world, or not look at it depending on the way you interpret all the time behind the lens. The camera is quite a distraction to actually appreciating what is right there in front of you; you get the shot but you miss the moment and the feeling.  I have said this before, the photographer is so focused {groan, bad pun} on capturing the moment that the moment is gone and they have not enjoyed or been part of the emotional experience.

Suddenly, my Muse was right there alongside me, helping me record the beauty of the moment in thoughts and memory! I had not realised, much as I love my photography, how much my reliance on the lens has destroyed my natural sense of recording ~ that is sight transposed into words! I am still reeling from the shock of all this, but it seems, to me, the camera has become to my writing what texting has become to conversation.

So, not a Wordless Wednesday, it isn't even Wednesday as I type, but a Picture~less Prose instead to record my half hour in nature on Friday last ~~~

We puttered along the quiet country lanes; there is very little traffic at this time of year, the world is a very different place compared to the height of summer when the roads are crammed jammed with tourists driving Chelsea Tractors, caravans, walkers and bicyclists. The stone hedges rise high, green covered, with red berried hawthorn bushes cresting the tops as nature decorates with festive bounty in Christmas colours ~~~

The day was clear as crystal, and over the tops of the hedges we could see as far as the hills allowed and we peeked through gateways at meadows and fields rolling away into the distance.  On and on we rode, down to the stream that winds lazily across the farm spotted fields and meadows of this corner of the Shire. As we came up the other side, a rocky outcrop dominated the skyline, as a sleeping dragon, clear and sharp guarding the land that lies beneath the sky.  Nearby, hardy golfers teed off, ready for a chilly walk in the cold winds that bluster in off the ocean just below the nine hole links ~~~

A tree stood, in the garden of a quaint stone cottage, bedecked with recycled buoys as giant oversized decorations, boldly bright and lots of seaside fun!  We gasped and giggled in amazement at the novelty ~~~

On we travelled, and we bounced merrily along the country lanes and down the other side to the now deserted beach; the tide was low and the pale golden sand stretched lazily before us as it gleamed, glittering grains in the glorious sunshine, contrasting against the icy blue and cloudless sky of a perfect late Autumn morning. Ah! the delight of respite from the howling winds and rain that battered just a few days earlier. The sea and sky both the shade of blue that was perfectly painted by that master of paint ~Turner ~ and with barely a ripple breaking the surface the day felt as lazy and languid as the barely existent waves.  The ocean view stretched way out yonder to the far and flat horizon, with the Bishops and Clerks offshore islands seeming almost close enough to touch; the Irish ferry chugged along to Pembroke Dock in a sea so calm it belies the storm that lashed against the rugged cliffs just a few short days ago ~~~

Two or three small groups strolled, long shadows casting across the sand as they walked along the water's edge, their dogs speeding hither and thither along the beach and splashing in the salty shallows while away in the distance, towards St Davids Head, a lone gannet flew; suddenly it's wings snatched back, it turned in an instant to dive as it plummeted beneath the surface of the ocean deep to snatch an unsuspecting fish for breakfast ~~~

All too soon we had to return to the village and back to my cottage for mugs of steaming hot tea to warm us up for, despite the beauty of the sun shining on us, the day was seasonably cold but still my heart is full and warm with the memories of a lovely morning, and with grateful thanks for the companionship of my missing Muse ~~~

Until next time ~~~
~~~Deborah xoxo

Once Upon A Time ~~~

Gentle Reader ~~~ Once Upon A Long, Long Time Ago in a quaint and curious village nestling by the ocean deep and blue, once there came and once there was a miracle called Snow ~~~

The narrow roads of this bucolic village by the sea were lined with rows of quaint and quiet cottages; chapels, churches and farmsteads dotted and spotted the highways and byways; pretty, high~hedgerow flowered lanes ran hither and thither; and ancient ruins lie among the green and fertile fields; while salmon leapt in the rivers and lobsters swam wild in the sea. Where the great Atlantic Ocean and wide white sandy beaches stretched out along the feet of high cliff tops and sheep and cattle safely graze, the village sat gazing yonder to the west, over the big, blue ocean in all its moods of quiet peaceful calm and wildest fury thunder.

Then, one day, the sleepy, gentle village folk awoke from their night time slumber to see the green and pleasant land they knew so well quite strangely changed, dusted all in white, as if some giant hand above had shaken finest icing sugar all across the fields and furrows, the hills and valleys, and all that lay therein and round about.  All was white and muted and all glistened with a fine crystal dusting of snow ~~~

White flakes of snow fell slowly, steadily, silently, sifting and drifting down from the grey cloud brim full sky overhead and soon the dusting grew thicker and thicker; settled the snow all around on the ground until all was a blanket of white.

Children, woken early by the softly strange new light that only comes from snow, flew from their cosy and warm beds in eager anticipation of adventures ahead. Bowls full of hot, creamy porridge were devoured as fast as they could; feet wrapped in thick warm socks were pushed quick as a wink into waiting Wellington boots; woolly scarves, hats and mittens that had waited so patiently all the year long on the hat stand in the hall were donned; front doors flew open wide; muffled and bundled children, barely able to walk from the layers of clothes, poured forth into the slippery, snow covered streets eager to form battle lines ready for games of snowball fights, or to build snowmen, and even take a tin tray, or sled if you were lucky enough to own one, to the nearby hill to spend the morning sliding up and down, down and up, until it was time for lunch when homeward bound they trouped ready for a bowl of warming soup ~~~ Round Two to follow in the afternoon!

And all the while, the white flakes fell and drifted ~~~

So, Gentle Reader ~~~ As I sit in my living room looking out at an unseasonably warm mid December scene with murky grey sky and rain, I am reminiscing of a day, now five years past when we had our last decent snowfall ~~~ I long for snow; I live for snow; I am in love with snow; my heart cries out for snow; when I lived in Iceland we had plenty of snow from October through to March and even longer. I was one very happy snow bunny. Since I have returned to the west of the United Kingdom, we have only had snow once on our tiny peninsula that juts out into the Gulf Stream and this is why we seldom have snow that hangs around for more than a few hours. Overnight is a rare thing, but to have snow for more than a few days is very rare indeed.

The last time this very rare event happened was on December 21st 2010 and, of course, I went out with my camera. The light is magical when there is snow; the familiar becomes strange and all looks alien.  There is much fun to be had capturing the snow in images, as much if not more fun than when I was a child. I know I've shared these before, but begging your pardon I am sharing them again. After all, they instil much happiness as I dream of a White Christmas once more ~~~ it is unseasonably warm, and even in mid December the heating is off for most of the day. A rare thing indeed.

A Snow Angel

A typical Pembrokeshire tree transformed with snow

Dramatic clouds looking as mountains, stand behind the nearby outcrop

The furrows left by the plough in Autumn make a lovely pattern across the field

Miniature Alpine scene ~ just a few inches high ~ the sun setting in the west

A frozen gorse bud melting in the sun makes a magical ornament

The snow lasted for days and days ~~~ well over Christmas and into the New Year. It was a real treat for someone like me who loves snow so much.

Until next time

Sincerely yours
Deborah xoxo

A World Where There Are Autumns

Gentle Reader ~~~ I am an Autumn girl through and through. I love everything there is about Autumn ~~~ the cooler days, the lowering sun, the gentle breezes, and all the jewelled colours of the slowing year ~~~ I even love the wild storms that lash the coast as they pound in from the Atlantic Ocean turning everything grey and salt kissed ~~~ and

~~~ I love the fun things to do ~~~

~stomping through fallen leaves~

~watching the colours of the land, sea, and sky turn with the changing year~

~wrapping up with my favourite fingerless mittens and scarves~

~sipping mugs of steaming hot chocolate~

~toasting crumpets, thickly slathered with butter and jam~

~decorating the cottage with Autumnal flavours~

~cooking and eating the warmer, richer, soups and stews of Autumn~

 ~gathering berries and nuts~

~walking in the woods~

~Hallowe'en~

~Thanksgiving~

~Pumpkins ~

~~~ and so much more ~~~

Oh! and Downton Abbey ~~~ but worry not, my lips are sealed ~~~ it is on as I write ~~~ and I can keep a secret {or ten} ~~~

~~~but most of all I love that Autumn gives us hope for the following year in the form of seeds that slumber through Winter and burst forth in the rebirth of Spring to the full blown beauty of flowers that follow in Summer~~~

For me, Awe~tumn is truly the most Awesome season of them all, and to misquote one of my favourite authors,

"I'm so glad I was born in a world where there are Autumns"

Earlier this week we had the Autumn Equinox ~~~ one of just two days each year {the other being the Spring Equinox} when the day and night are of equal length. From now until the Winter Solstice the days shorten and nights lengthen and the world of the Northern Hemisphere is slowly winding down and preparing to sleep ~~~

In The Shire, we are blessed by some truly lovely Autumn weather. After a Spring that failed to spring, and a Summer that was more like a damp squib, Autumn is bringing very pleasant temperatures with little or no rain, and quite a bit of sun.  The days are comfortably warm, with cooler evenings for snuggling under warm quilts and blankets ~~~ the projected forecast for the next ten days seems agreeable and there should be good opportunity to do any necessary tidying up and preparing the garden for Winter ~~~

Here is a little poem from one of my favourite childhood books, "A Child's Garden of Verses"

Autumn Fires 

by Robert Louis Stevenson 

In the other gardens

  And all up the vale,

From the autumn bonfires

  See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over

  And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

  The gray smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!

  Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

  Fires in the fall!
~~~~~

The colours are changing, the leaves are falling, and the last fruits of the year ripen on the boughs.  Here are a few images from around the Garden to capture those last magical moments, the jewelled colours of the year before all is touched by Winter's frosty kisses ~~~

Jewelled Lusciously Juicy Jewels of Black, and Red Ripening, Blackberries

Turning Leaves

Red Turning Leaves

Glossy Red Apples Ripening on the Boughs

A Cascade of Apples

Purple, Velvety~covered Clematis

Clematis with Wind Flower

Clematis

Autumn Fruiting Raspberries ~ Yum!

The colours of the evening skies are changing too, being more muted, subtle shades of the scorching colours of a Summer sky ~~~ the world turns, and everything changes ~~~

A final note of birdsong in the Autumn Garden ~~~

Until next time
Sincerely yours
Deborah

Waterfalls in the Night Garden ~~~

Gentle Reader ~~~ Last night I dreamed that I was hiding in a waterfall ~~~ then claps of thunder came, rolling across the sky, and lightening flashed and crashed, and I awoke and discovered that it was raining heavily, percolating, drip by drip, drop by drop, into my dreams, and maybe I was behind a waterfall after all ~ dream~invading rain falling in torrents, like the streams of a dream of water falling down a rabbit hole ~~~ indeed, by suffusing my sleep it brought strange memories of standing in a real surreal cavern behind Seljalandsfoss in Iceland ~~~ where a narrow path trickles behind a screen of falling water, where, with care, you can creep along the slippery ledge into the small cavern carved out by centuries of falling water and experience a waterfall from a whole new angle ~~~ it is very noisy, very wet, and incredibly wonderful!  

Here is a link to my Flickr Iceland photographs album where you can find many more waterfalls and other Icelandic treats ~~~

Rain fell, curtains of water, drenching the parched earth, and the sky across The Shire was grey and heavy; somewhere in the distance the grey fields reached up into the grey sky but where they met no human eye could tell ~~~ all was grey and wet, sodden after night~long hours of heavy grey rainfall, blown sideways in the grey winds of former Hurricane Bertha, falling as if squeezed from some giant grey bath sponge hidden in the grey sky being rung out by a massive hand hiding in the grey clouds, so as to fall upon the grey land below in great grey sheets of water ~~~ 

The winds are freshening now and apparently will blow with ferocity later this afternoon.  The sun is shining, all is bright and shiny and fresh, clean and green, with flashes of colour from the few tenacious blooms that survived the onslaught of the night. Later, I will survey the damage, which doesn't seem, at first glance, anywhere near as bad as it could have been; watering cans are not needed today, but as ever ~~~ 

~~~A Gardener's Work is Never Done~~~