Wednesday, 4 June 2014

D is for daydreamer - #Alphabetphoto

Up on the hills where we live, Roh skips ahead.  She sings made up songs with dimples and grins; talks animatedly and earnestly to herself, and all the while the gentle breeze sets her hair dancing behind her.

Then she stops.  She pushes her hands deep into soft fleecy pockets.

Her stare stretches far beyond the horizon, the carpet of world at her feet.

D is for day-dreaming daughter.

Linking up to Alphabet Photography over at the beautiful PODCast

Wednesday, 28 May 2014

C is for circle #Alphabetphoto

Nestled between the two nearest peaks of the hills is the circle stone. It is a much loved marker of the home strait for dusk walks.

Arrows fire off in all directions telling the onlooker where he is; a compass, a map, of cold grey stone.

I sit upon it, cross-legged, looking east to the towns and cities clustered on the low, flat land, like football players in a perfect formation just before the whistle blows.  Then I shuffle around and drink in the green rolling hills and fields to west, tiny dots of farms scattered randomly until they melt into the far away mountains of Wales.

But my favourite view, by far, is lying back on the circle stone and watching the clouds dance by overhead.  And with just a little wriggle somehow the rough contours of the rock make a comfortable bed from which to do this.

Linking up with the Alphabet Photography project over at the super duper PODcast.

Wednesday, 21 May 2014

B is for.... #AlphabetPhoto

A week of rashes, of soaring temperatures, tears and bad tummies.  Tiny pockets of calm, interspersed with sticky spoonfuls of calpol and soft, cold flannels for foreheads plastered with slicks of matted hair.

It was a week where inspiration was always just out of reach; B is for bird? B is for blurred? Oh I don't know, B is for beer?  Nothing seemed quite right; like a bad hair day, or jeans that feel that bit tighter after the Christmas feasting, nothing seemed to 'fit'.

I heard it first.  The slurp, then the thick oozing gurgles followed by wet popping.  I smiled, I knew what she was doing.  I used to as a child. And I still would given half the chance.

I turned around and followed the dimple across to the chocolate cake crumbs dancing in the vibrations on the corner of her mouth. In the other corner a pink straw was hanging jauntily, disappearing into a cup of milk and that's when I saw my 'b'.

B is for bubbles....

Keep blowing bubbles for as long as you want to, Roh. My inspiration.

Linking up to the Alphabet Photography Project over at the talented PODCast.