New Boots


Nam-ma, Girl, Little Granddaughter: after buying new Wellington boots they go to Widemouth Beach with a happy Dog. Feet are kept dry. Paws and fur in the water, happy happy Dog! The sun has a turn at shining again. Little Granddaughter chases a plastic bag over the sand and every time she bends to reach it blows away again. Nam-ma and Girl would have helped sooner only they were suffering a laughter fit, poor dears. But after this is ice cream and café crafted soup. Dog loiters under a chair. Clouds cluster, the wind speeds and chills. Coffee heats. Feet are still dry on the drive home.
Little Granddaughter sleeps and the wakeful others talk of fresh diary pages, cider vinegar, brisk walking, making project lists. Dog on the back seat, damp, gently steaming.
New boots press pedals, vroom-vroom!





Comments

  1. Teresa Cypher6 January 2014 at 01:36

    Sounds like a wonderful moment--the giggles. I could visualize her trying to grab the bag as it blew away. And again, and again. Looks like a good day. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lisa Southard6 January 2014 at 16:46

    Once she had the bag she cried because the dog hadn't done a poo, so we made a sand-poo for her! She loved it and we did a lot more laughing. Splendid day :-)

    ReplyDelete

Post a comment

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

Popular posts from this blog

Yes, A Winter Welcome

Image
~ Words on beginning the Winter Festivities ~ Monday 30th November 2020 Autumn’s last calendar day. The season puts on a thick mist coat so I picture it flouncing out with flaming leaves at its hem, russet apples tumbling behind. Winter clatters at the door, all cold bones and tense sparkling hope. Last night I had driven home connected to a clear night, moon above, fuel warning light pipping, songs turned loud: it was like old poor times, the good energy of it, the leap of faith. This night I drove home through wails of mist, fuel levels contently full, songs still loud: the good energy of repleteness. My fear of comfort is diminished, I note, and this brings an excitement. Am I ready? Yes. Tuesday 1st December 2020 In bed drinking coffee, having first admired the crazy moon lighting the morning sky silvery bright; the sun behind us was arriving as though poured slowly from a jug. Welcome to winter. This first day is a list of simple pleasures: setting up cold protection in t
Read more

Plotlines And Plants

Image
Wednesday 3rd February 2021 Returned to work on Monday with my lists of little things to achieve each day, to balance the lack of other adventures in this, the third of our UK lockdowns. Checked rota and found myself not working more than usual shift pattern for two weeks consecutively which feels like I am still on holiday. 😊 Yesterday we stocked up on top soil, potting compost, vermiculite; bought seeds for savoy cabbage and tarragon, and I treated myself to new secateurs (lost a pair in the garden somewhere). 💚 We took the van, also picking up an old window which later will be a solar dehydrator and water heater, and wood for replacing the polytunnel door, which was too long for the van. Mr had to borrow a saw and bespoke the lengths in rain so heavy it was near solid. 💧 This morning after stretches and dog walking I lugged new topsoil onto the polytunnel beds, pruned the small apple tree, cooked mushrooms on the woodburner. Right now I am about to brew extra coffee and crack
Read more

Clearing Time

Image
Space for soul work Monday 9th November 2020 It’s write anything day. Tap out words. Thoughts adrift. In my car when I’m in fine voice, no one knows otherwise. I might be pitch perfect. Doesn’t matter. The important thing is to sing if I want to. Write. Always watching the weather, jumping in the mud. Walk my feet into the sea until my shoulders slip under, limbs fold-unfold, swimming. Write anything. Be. Let the cliche be. Doesn’t matter. What matters? Yes the little things, yes the big picture. Making mistakes YES. Be serious. Be fun. Misuse punctuation in the general flow. Beautiful words that come to me when I’m lacking a pen or a keyboard, that will never be replicated, that were either perfect or illusionary, that do or don’t need to be shared: tumble through it. Look but seek nothing. I’m at work, it’s drizzling. Sky a pale blur, all colours softened. Indoors the light is warm and also soft. I’m tired from the hot flushes that are stalking my nights, from the dog’s odd new ob
Read more