Castellations



This morning, a chicken stole into our house via the broken cat flap. I cornered it in the bathroom and carried it back outside. I think that Cat had ripped off the duct tape but not that she had expected the appearance of the chicken. Cat and Dog both sat in the kitchen with saucer eyes, aghast at the interloping.

Cold and bright, the day pops up, takes me to the beach. Two horses gallop about; as many dogs as people; seabirds and crows steady in a bracing onshore blast; no chickens. Dog follows her tennis ball through waves and pools and the toothsome castellations of rock. My eyes follow Dog: over a row of molars and juts of incisor and around the chunky buttress. Press my feet over soft sand. The beach graduates from fine particles to rockfall slabs. Small white pebbles: the teeth of the drowned: salt polished, scatter evenly throughout.


Comments

  1. Suze26 January 2013 at 18:08

    I love the saucer eyes of Cat and Dog.

    You should make a necklace of seateeth, Lily. If anyone could do it, it'd be you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Susan Flett Swiderski28 January 2013 at 01:15

    Not many people could start a post by saying a chicken had gotten into the house through a broken pet door. That made me smile. I could just imagine the horrified dog and cat watching... and you chasing.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lisa Southard28 January 2013 at 22:47

    Suze you are right: I would suit a sea-teeth necklace. Might go on my Project List :-)
    The chicken was an odd start to the day, Susan: amusing too but I am pleased Mr put a new cat flap in!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

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

Popular posts from this blog

A Candle Lit

Image
We live by the light of those we love, whether they are here or gone. That light is inextinguishable. To have the light and not the company is an adjustment process we call grief. Loss is a shadow, equal to the light. We adjust not to lose the shadow but to see both. Hard to bear - yet without darkness, light cannot show its full wonder. Let us look after each other, then, and value our days, our company, and live to leave vast shadows, and understand that pain is a strange gift, a tender, haunting, purposed gift. And if you are grieving: let your tears flow, let your anger shout, let yourself plead and deny and feel terrible: it is not an easy process.  Know that other people know grief.  Know that other people are hurt to see you grieve.  Know that love is a fundamental response. There is no time limit to this adjustment process. No right or wrong way to feel. One day you will stand back and see that the shadow is proof to the strength of the light, a
Read more

Light On Our Feet With Good News

Image
Friday 23rd April 2021 We go into Launceston town, park in the long stay because all parking is free until May 17th (when the hospitality industry restarts). We are early and Mr’s knee hurts so we pick a charity shop without stairs; Mr buys a faux leather jacket, I pick out a summery top. Bargains curled in hand as neither of us has a bag, we find our way to the office and ask for our trainee solicitor, a young chap in a slouchy silvery suit. He comes out of a meeting, nervous, finds an empty room, and we follow him in. There’s a big blue folder of searches and enquiries which we look through, young chap jabbing a finger at relevant bits, his hands are not steady. We think the paperwork is probably satisfactory but this is new territory so it’s all leap of faith stuff - deep breath, take up the pen, sign. We leave the signatures, take the folder, and our bargains, go to Barnecutts and choose a bun each. I pick a plain chelsea, Mr goes for a rocky road. Celebratory carbs that we c
Read more