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Mother Mine

My mother was a small, sweet, gentle woman who loved her family and her garden and her tiny home with equal measure. She had three children...five if you count the two miscarriages she endured as a young and lonely wife...and played no favourites with us, though my brother and sister would possibly disagree. I was the youngest and was born post World War 2, thus acquiring a sister older by 16 years and a brother my senior by 12 years.
I loved both my parents dearly, but as a somewhat sickly child, grew accustomed to the capable and loving nursing provided unstintingly by my mum. She cared for me through scarlet fever and whooping cough and steered me through a myriad of childhood illnesses perhaps more common in the late nineteen forties and fifties that were my early world. She was my rock, my heart, my pillar of strength and my love for her was fierce and jealous.

Today I miss her still, the lovely hands that held mine and tried to guide me on a gentler path; the soft blonde hair that wreathed her smiling face; the sureness with which she took us all though life as our companion, carer and champion, until cruel cancer entered her body and took her away, piece by piece, until only her soul remained.........her name was Jeanne and to this day I love her and think of her and need her advice and laughter and freedom of spirit. I will take her with me through this life and into the next. She was the fire that ignited life in me and still burns brightlythrough my days. She was always there and remains forever my beloved Mother.



Silver star
Indigo sky
Moon yet to rise
Soft argent light

Indigo night
Gentlest breeze
Shy moon appears
High above trees

Soft velvet flowers
Violet haze
Beauty about me
Wherever I gaze

Still the heart wonders
Wave to the sand
How much is destiny
How much is planned

Raining a song
From indigo sky
Clouds there are none
Silver moon nigh

Watch through the misting
Smile on my face
Hearing my heart
Feeling my space

Night is a wonder
Raindrops run past
Hands on a window
Memories are cast

Into the rivers
Indigo night
Wings folded over
End of the flight

Wait for me nightbird
Far side of the moon
Rain on my feathers
Humming a tune

Softness of night
Takes me in its folds
Mirrors are empty
Air still and cold

Warm is in knowing
Night is my friend
Silver star mine
There at the end

Puddle below me
shelters the moon
Infinite depths
Rippling rune

Breeze all but sleeping
Night is alone
Moon and star fading
Now I am home.



A Morning In Winter

The morning stole quietly across my sill as I lay, sound asleep, deep in layers of warmth against the predawn cold. Beside me was a warm soft ball, rumbling quietly beneath the covers and at my feet was another warm ball pushed hard and noiseless against my soles. There was no other sound as I stirred in my sleep, disturbing feline and canine bodies just a little. I am so used to them sharing my bed, I compensate and restrict my movements so as not to wake them, as waking means a throwing on of robes in order to brave the chill and let them out into the garden where they attend to morning matters. It was as I turned that I first heard the sleepy carol of a waking magpie and was instantly transported fifty-five years back in time to another world where I was a child rousing in a country bed far away, to the same sound of carolling maggies. My still sleepbound mind scented the air and smelled bush smoke...eucalypt burning hot and hasty in a wood fuelled stove, preparing for the breakfast rush. That would be my Auntie Bunny, alone in the kitchen still, getting Uncle Tom's food ready for his long day in the market gardens of the Manchester Unity in Woodend. Sigh.

My magpie this morning waited awhile longer before carolling again and rousing his mates for another day of foraging for feed in the cold winter dawn. I wondered if stirring insects, worms and lizards, also heard the carolling, knowing this might be their day to feed a hungry mouth or two. My bed was still. I could roll over and return to the dreams I had so very nearly left behind. The maggie's sweet sound faded as once again I fell asleep, the sun still an hour away from waking too.


The Leap of Faith

Blogging is new to me, thus the Leap of Faith...I am inspired by others who jump in with both feet and survive. I was born a chatterbox, according to my family, and I guess this is no different as it's chatting with written words, not spoken.

I know very little, having only lived for 62 years so far. It's not a long time in the grand scheme of things...I watched a documentary recently, part of the BBC series
Great Cities Of The World, on the Eternal City, Roma in Italy. Much of Rome is 2,000 plus years old and has seen so very much of life and living. Made me realise how insignificant I could feel without trying hard at all :)

I love my computer, the very dear friends inside it, my beloved Sid and my pets who are sitting by me at this very minute. It is Sid's 73rd Birthday today and I wish him the Moon, amongst other things, plus many more birthdays at my side. Happiest of Birthdays to you...

Rust Ranger and Tiggy are never far from my side, unless you count time out for eating and sunbathing and chasing things, which they do in no particular order most days :) More about them later, and more about my days on this small blue planet spinning on its axis.