Ramblings from a brambled lane

Musings and photographs from my country stroll today.

If you write things, as I do (or are creative in any way) you might be able to relate to this feeling I attempt to describe…..

You don’t create for a while and then suddenly when you are able to again, you question it.

You wonder if it’s enough, worth putting ‘out there’.

Or maybe think “I’ve said it all before.”

You remind yourself of one of those recipe books; ‘101 ways with potatoes’, or something.

Think; “I surely can’t extract any more from THAT! It’s just mash with different sprinkles.”

That’s how I’ve been feeling a little recently. The voices in my head can be a tough crowd.

Often, if it’s a social commentary piece, it’s;

“Tsk! The moment’s passed…..you missed it!”

If it’s a story;

“Why can’t you ever write anything cheerful!”

When I post photos;

“You’re just some woman with an iPhone.”

If it’s poetry I’m writing, I’m reminded;

“Your life is boring……seriously, how many poems can you milk out of the same old shit you keep living? Poets need new experiences.”

But sometimes, when I feel at peace, as I did today, I have a visit from my fairy godmother. She swoops in and grounds me. Steadies my foalish legs. Buttercups my chin.

And as I wandered down my brambled lane, she whispered in my ear;

“Isn’t writing like light? And life? It’s fated to both repeat and change. The two are inseparable bedfellows. Change lives in repetition, repetition dwells in change.”

I asked her to expand. This voice in my head. (You following?) I’ll paraphrase.

Well, we can wear the same item of clothing every day, but the experience is not the same. The fabric fades, grows more comfortable….. or becomes threadbare. Maybe it shrinks a little. Sometimes we are constricted, sometimes freer. All within the same garment.

We can drink coffee from the same cup but never quite recreate the same shade. The way the aroma merges with the rest of the spice of the day cannot be replicated.

A shaft of light will never gild the same fern in the same way twice. For it must burst forth from a unique cloud, have different obstacles in its path.

The dance of change and repetition is both reassuring and unnerving.

Routines trick us into thinking we can repeat an experience. We cannot.

Knowing this makes me more comfortable with both writing and life. Maybe I will *almost* repeat a description but it won’t be an exact copy, because I am each day a new version of myself.

That said, accompany me on my walk today.

Let’s mosey down the lane together.

Allow me to clumsily net with my crude phone camera, the sardine silver light wiggling through the lens.

Allow me to story spell. To pluck and warm a lively jam of description.

I share my musings gladly as a glut.

For left alone in my dark, they simply rot.

Photos from my walk today

1)England is such a fresh quilt of a land. Textures bristle, splash and bustle. Lime brightens emerald, moss jostles mint. On this photo, the red flame of flora reminds me of a daring buttonhole on the lapel of a dandy’s suit. The flirtatious sway of blaze and cool, root and rove. Moody cloud blesses from on high.

2) See this house? Top left. When my son was a toddler, I used to look over at this house. Was painted white at the time. With Peggy Lee’s ‘The folks who live on the hill’,  playing in my head, I’d romanticise about the people who lived there. The carefree life they led.

Until one day, I met the woman who did, at a coffee morning for parents of autistic kids. She did not have a perfect life by any means.

A lesson learned.

3)As a child, I had a phase when I loved drawing silhouettes of tower blocks. I was convinced I would one day live in a city with skyscrapers. (Besides, they were easy to draw and looked impressive.) Sometimes I’d add figures at the windows. Anyway, today, I saw the shadows of the weeds on the grit face of the lane and they reminded me of a country ‘Manhattan Skyline’. I explored the idea of a city that never sleeps, consisting of dormice and crickets, butterflies and ladybirds. Decided I liked it way more than glittering, manmade fakery.

4)A video of a giddy horse. Just because.

You might have heard the saying ‘like giving a donkey strawberries’

Well, today, I picked some blackberries for the horses. And I can tell you, the enthusiasm is similar!

5)Finally, I give you a wisp of rainbow.

In a world of over filter, I’ve come to value these kind of rainbows most of all. They invite a generous gaze. They impress me with their tender, gambling nuance.

After all, doesn’t gentleness leave the strongest imprint on a sueded soul?

Thanks for reading.