It was a very grey holiday, there were some bits of bright blue sky and sunlight reflecting on the freshly fallen snow but the background theme and feeling was a dreary dismal dullness of the darkness felt too long, and the sludge and slush of snow left to linger after a cold and brilliant winter.
We went to Leith -one of my dad’s favourite songs is sunshine on Leith by the Proclaimers and I wrote about it once in They Sing For Him. So we took a winter trip to see the sunshine in Leith. It is a suburb of Edinburgh on the coast and this is what mesmerised me most, the fact that it was on the coast. I had been to Edinburgh several times to the Castle and the sights and never really thought of it as being coastal. The architecture was grey and mesmerising, It was like waking up in a different time and a different place, a truly dystopian setting. It had its own unique beauty.
It was a turbulent week just like the weather. We saw the wolf moon shining bright in the New Year sky and it brought tidal wrath to the coastline. There were forecast to be High tides and they arrived at the same time as storm Eleanor. Around Cumbria and the Furness peninsula storm surge brought debris and made some of the roads impassable.
As we return to work and tried to re-establish the pre-Christmas normalcy in patterns of life and leisure we know with certainty that we are walking forwards into a turbulent future likely to match the week and mayhem of the wonderful wolf moon. Two supermoons this month, I wonder what the next one will bring.
This is a collaborative project between the dVerse poets and dVerse team. Over 100 poets from around the world contributed to this anthology. We selected not only the best poems but also those poems that take the reader through a journey from the darkest places to the brightest. From the deepest sorrow into happiness and love. From the darkest streets to woods in spring. Come enjoy our journey.
This is for d’Verse meeting at the bar, where we were asked to consider silence. This sunflower was in my garden in NZ, planted as a seed by my husband to cheer me up in Spring/summer 2014 when I was unable to tend the garden following major surgery. I could see it from the bedroom window.
Memories frozen in time
Sun melts through the pain.
I wrote the Haiku on Friday- mum’s birthday and what surprised me most is that this is the first year that I haven’t spent the day in tears, in fact I didn’t cry at all. I am not sure if this is some miraculous part of healing or because we are now at least home. All the other years I had to cope with both the feelings of loss and the separation by distance.
The snowy theme continued throughout the weekend and we set off on Saturday to visit Hays Garden Centre and in search of snow for Emily. We killed a few ghosts in Hays, it was a place I visited with mum one summer. We then drove up through Ambleside and snaked off to go up Kirkstone Pass to the third highest Pub in England, the highest inhabited building in Cumbria. As we drove past the chocolate box houses, with the gentle snowflakes falling, Mull of Kintyre was playing on the radio, and I was transported instantly back to Christmas past, as a youngster at Christmas celebrations with mum and dad and their friends and drunken antics and singing and I could hear mum’s laughter echoing through my head. The memory was so strong and this was when the tears were shed. The sense of both happiness and loss was overwhelming.