Tag: a river of stones
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The energy of intention & where the river of stones went
Hands up! Here’s a message from a mum of four who’s blog is about headspace and finding time to write and paying attention and who said she was going to participate in the River of Stones Project this January (posting a few lines of a mindful meditation or observance every day) but hasn’t had the…
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Final small stone: Solar lamp hope
Outside the window the solar garden lights come on as the darkness falls. Despite the still short days and overcast skies they have absorbed some energy to reflect back. Tomorrow is the official beginning of spring, a stretch in the day, the sun returning. The valiant efforts of the solar lamps echo our own vestiges…
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Words at the washing line
Bright, light. I emerge from my dark winter haven into the beneficence of sun, the stalk of the leafless dogwood still flaming red, a bird arcing and dipping in the coyly blue sky. I hang the family’s laundry on the washing line and keep my eyes on the sky. Then words appear all together like…
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Small stone: Moving picture
A bright rectangle appears on the bedroom wall, intensifies, then branches emerge, criss-crossing. Then within the frame, everything moves, a motion picture. A gift from a valiant sun newly risen, making a wall shadow of trees.
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Sun fire on the hillside saying goodnight
Sun fire on the hillside, deep red glow, a glimpse caught through trees, unexpected glories.
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Finding myself asleep
These last few days, being mindful, taking one to one time with the children, being where I am, listening to unexpected stories and revelations at the bedside of my carefully tucked in children. Finally everything put to bed, the pleasure of now lightly attended, I feel the exhilaration of my available writing time, satisfaction and…
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Fish pie
The satisfaction of cooking this wholesome meal. My daughter at my side. The sizzling of onions, chunks of fish, herbs, chopped eggs, some veg, a thick sauce. She stirs and stirs and adds the ingredients, eager to learn, eager to please. It is full of colour and goodness. We pour it into the dish and…
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Leaves in a spin
Leaves skitter and rise with the wind underneath, spin in a perfect spiral and drop.
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Cheesy biscuits
Crunch crumble falling into the mouth, the sweet melt of then soft biscuit, cool cheese, layer on layer, that spring back texture pleasant against the teeth. The taste mingling, crumbs on the chin, I run my fingers over them as if I am bearded, I gather them from my lips. A favourite thing.
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The sense of children running wild
Red wrecks, burning barns with horses, conkers, brambles, rumoured pools of quicksand with makeshift planks, spies and tag and dare and hide and seek. I remember. And now a parent, as my children move beyond infancy I let them go, off with friends, racing with the air on their faces on the green, near the…
Alison Wells Author 