I have moved my blog to:
Little White Feathers
Please do pop over and take a look, as I would love to see you there.
Wednesday, 4 June 2014
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
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.