Through My Window, On An Afternoon Of Unexpected Idleness.

"The mountains simply exist, as I do. The mountains exist simply, as I do not."

~ Peter Matthiessen.

From all directions, the distant mountains bathe their crowns in milky pools,
and the sky draws down a slow veil,
the earlier rain,
like the lightest canopy
shook out in slow motion, reluctant to return down to us,
a curious drift that settles unhurriedly.

It takes the whole day.

Of Bungled Plans, And Some Birthdays.

Three days past now, Milkmoon turned four. And I missed it! Oh my..... 

I did remember last week, and there were plans for a make-over and a giveaway, which I hasten to add will still go ahead, they will. But then my technical advisor was whisked away to Tokyo, at rather short notice, and I quietly folded my plans away into a shoebox and placed it on a sunlit shelf in my studio, to wait.

In my mother's kitchen,
she pauses to light the candles.

But just before he left, we had a birthday. Eight years ago our bonny babe no.3 was born here in our sitting room, all 11lbs (5kilos) of him, and such a ray of sunshine he has turned out to be. An all-singing, all-dancing, most agreeable cabaret of a lad, if ever there was one!

And so our week has been, as usual, a hectic one. A blustery, wind-swept, whiplash sort of a week that careened between autumnal gloomy rain-drenching days, and hot sirocco-like days, that found us mostly over-dressed, peeling off layers as we went, kicking off our shoes and longing for cool water on our toes.

There is a strange thing that happens when one tenacious season will not let go, isn't there? An odd sort of waiting. We stand in the wings, costumes in hand, just waiting for our cue to don them, but each time we do, we must remove them in haste as we are overcome, yet again....*sigh*
Let autumn begin proper, please, I say, as I eye my favourite tweedy skirt, woolen scarves and ankle length coat, and hats! Oh yes, hats, please!

But for now we will bide our time, scuffing our toes in the last of the warmth before the sun begins to thin, and we have to scramble and savour any heat we can find.
Although I was better, I am hobbling again, and so trying to slow things down a little, (yes, I did say 'slow things down', though when I say those words, I do hear manic laughter echoing somewhere in the background...)  and I have plans to actually get into my studio this week and get stuck into an exciting project I have in mind.

Ah, yes, the studio. Did I mention it before? I think possibly not. I may do a little feature to show you around, and you can peek into some shoeboxes and tins and see what we can find. I am still unpacking hence the shoeboxes etc but do stop by later this week to see where we are, and pop in for a cup of tea when I am settled in.

But in the meantime.

I'll be right here, fixing myself up and finding new homes for everything, unpacking and unwrapping and setting things to rights.

And waiting for the technical advisor to make his way home again.....

Where Ghosts Wander In The Trees.

For days now the rain clung to the mountains, a distant threat, a pale swathe that seemed to embrace them, draw them away from us. And each day we watched, waiting, but still they held.

And so we took ourselves off, running out into the afternoon sun, the day as muggy as high summer. We took ourselves up a winding, tree-lined road to a familiar place where ghosts sigh and murmur amidst the beech trees, and a happiness seems to linger.

There amongst the green the children ran and ran and ran, excitedly calling to one another, small hands busy finding treasure in the humus and leaves, their voices echoing off the trees, bouncing through the leaves.

And there in the virescent light a stillness found us, as though we sank into a verdurous pool of that magic that is leaf-sunlight, our thoughts straying to those lingering ghosts that dwell among these trees, and a silence fell over us for the briefest of times.

In the end the rain found it's way down the mountains, and today we awoke to a slow smothering of moisture that soaked and sank in to the earth, our clothes, our skin, filling the air with moisture, like a silvery haze. All day.
Finally.