Paraselene



Sat at the front room table so I can be next to the heater and the heater, though portable, is best here where it can also dry washing. Sun blazes outside but the cold damp air has brought the washing in. I have sunglasses on for writing. This morning's walking was partly on ice. Brittle ice.
Tap on my keyboard, find comfort in words.
Also paint patient Christmas roses onto folded card, also make chicken pie. With sauce, this week. Reach for saucepan. Jollied up. There is a rainbow in it.
A round one, like the aura that gathers round the moon. Excited enough to take a picture of it. Paraselene is a fine word: it means the image of the moon inside the lunar halo. 



Comments

  1. Geo.10 December 2012 at 23:57

    Paraselene. I shall write it down. For years I've said, cirrostratus lunar corona, and people back away.

    ReplyDelete
  2. klahanie11 December 2012 at 00:55

    Ah, tis such an image you paint. And may the comfort of words that dance from your fingers upon thy keyboard, bring thoughts of happy lunar halos.

    Gary

    ReplyDelete
  3. Suze11 December 2012 at 04:33

    I missed you so I popped in to see what you were up to, capturing rainbows.

    I rest easier knowing you are alive in the world.

    ReplyDelete
  4. S.P. Bowers11 December 2012 at 12:04

    Thanks for teaching me a new word! You've got some great imagery here, we're right with you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Lisa Southard11 December 2012 at 14:28

    Geo- you will find you are much more popular now, and conversations will flow with accomplished ease :-)
    Gary- wishing you rainbows dear chap xx
    Suze! Lovely to know you are here too- looking forward to The Return very much! xx
    SP, thank you for reading- it is a lovely word isn't it? :-)

    ReplyDelete

Post a comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Corona Creep Up

Image
Words From The Start Of Lockdown Life Mr looks to the future, it looks like hedges. Saturday March 14th 2020 On the drive to work I got bored of changing the windscreen wiper settings, then a little off-white spider raced around on the steering wheel. I blew it onto the dashboard but it jumped back. Cheeky spider. At work we are bored of coronavirus restrictions and bored at the prospect of it continuing. We don’t know anyone who has it. Supermarket shelves are missing toilet roll, dried pasta, as previously, now also tins of beans and tomatoes. There are travel bans and cancelled events. Last night I had to teach a non contact TKD session - no pads, no sparring, no hand shaking. I began my class with ‘first of all, please don’t breathe because that’s dangerous now.’ All of us are ‘meh’ about these restrictions. We understand that infection control is serious for the immune-compromised, we adhere to protocol for that reason. But the paranoia and boredom: meh. Monday March
Read more

Three Letters To Grace

Image
Words On Love, Loss, And Grieving 21/5/2020 Dear Grace, I have said how your legacy is the small kind things; I have been noticing them more and more. It’s almost ridiculous, in a wonderful way, to be so taken by the pattern on a plate or how clever elastic is. I can’t stop making beautiful meals. Yesterday I woke up with the bravado to debone a turkey leg. It took awhile; regret was made fleeting by success. I feel like you know. That your light and care are here in everything and that’s why I am continually tuning in. The energy to transform everything is part of this, to celebrate our ordinary splendour. This has manifested into some minor furniture renovations and uncovered a leaking pipe under the bath. (I think we can fix it, I’ve put a cloth down for now to soak it up, left it open to dry out the floor and the rotted skirting board. The bath panel is outside meanwhile… should I paint it? Probably not…) This is the best of grief; the deep and peaceful loss, the fine example, yo
Read more

Windfalls

Image
Going With The Flow Isn't Always Bumpy After work - no swimming. Just stopped by Porthpean to breathe the wild air, to drive home to a powercut, candlelit house where a glass of wine was waiting.  The next day more s torm winds blew, rolling apples down the lawn. Fruit boules? I was in the blackberry hedge, untangling thorny whips and gathering fruit. Dots of blood on fingers, nettle-stung buzz on my shins.  Ideas swirling about plotlines adding to the happiness. Pegged towels on the rotary line which may be a mistake but maybe (definitely, overcome with the exuberant purchase of our not yet delivered kayak) I lied when I said I wouldn’t replace it. I should re-use it, obviously; grow sweet peas on it, perhaps. Sweet peas, and ivy for the evergreen. Meanwhile the line has stretched like cheap elastic and I’m hoping the towels don’t land in the gooseberry prickles. Later I am sat writing, and hiding from the mess downstairs which will turn out fine because there’s a plumber
Read more