Whiteness like snow, hangs once again
opposite my small, square paned window.
Beams of light come in at a morning angle
across piano, music and wooden backed chair.
While all around, the scent of pink Jasmine
mollifies the lingering fatalistic dictum of all
that is not well in this world today…… Yet,
here am I now, gazing on sunbeams as they
dance on and off the petals of the Miribelle bush.
How blessed am I to be relatively safe, that I am
in this moment, free to look upon my environment
soaking up the generosity of our glorious, natural world.IMG_0890

The Thimble


The Thimble

It is a little light going on in my tired, dimmed mind.

Something I have never seen as precious

until this very moment has bubbled up in a ball of soft

white light to the surface of my thinking……

Yet it’s not just my mind with which I think it,

for, as my body buzzes with recognition of Mother

and the gift she gave of her silver thimble,

some other warmth showers my nine year old self.

I felt safe and secure when Mother was darning.

I sat by her, watching her wrinkled hands, those working

needle and thread against the tension of the cloth…..

With thimble behind, breakthrough was sure.

The support it gave to push yet not harm,

to succeed with this quiet and peaceful task

just with herself, an exercise not entirely for herself

yet one which allowed her own, now centred self, the space.

I found warmth bathing me…….
Mother felt safe and …… did I.

Like a River

I thought it was the sea
I heard last night.
Silver blue sounds streaming
in my head, around and beyond
all edges of my little chunk of sanity.
I looked inside this cracked mind
to see word paintings,
voices with no form,
mannequins who claim
to feel, but drip WD40
from their clunking jaws…….
You see, it is quite simple really.
These are the illusions,
the actors who tell us we are
useless, selfish scavengers
in the fight ….. waiting to
takes us for their feast…..
If I had known this from the start,
I would have flowed like a river
swiftly carrying all darkling greys
away from this young one’s heart.
Like a river, nothing would stop me
from sculpting the tide, sloshing over
rocks and stones, creating my Life…..
Yet, here am I, now,
Like a River.

Leonard Nimoy and his thoughts on “Full Bodies”


Hello friends,

I’m taking the liberty today of sharing something which means a lot to me. It’s about the views of the great and wonderful Leonard Nimoy, on size. He appreciated women of all shapes and sizes and made a study and a point of photographing many women of size……

This link will hopefully take you to the Militant Baker Website where there is the most wonderful article not to be missed, if you are remotely interesed in matters of Size and Beauty. Thanks for taking a look