This blog has now moved to


http://domesticephemera.tumblr.com/

please follow this link to see new posts

Thank you!

Fourteen

I lay quietly, watching shadows play across the wall. Hidden in a small haven. I focus in on the dancing leaves, closing down my vision of the peripheral messes, piles and clutters. 

Time plays backwards and forwards. Fast and slow, here and there my mind wanders. Exploring, remembering, chasing down what I know to be mine. 

Transitioning. 

We came here looking for I don't know what. And found fire, stars, iridescent blue peacock feathers. And the tales of what we were to become. What we are made of and where we will return. We are stardust*. 

And we dance and play around each other, gravity holding us in orbit. I hear the half remembered sounds of laughter and frustration. I feel the pull so strong, so infinitely binding I won't ever fall away, won't ever spin out into space. 

Deep in the darkness there is more and more of all that makes us and binds us. All that we will ever need. 



* Every atom in your body is billions of years old. Hydrogen, the most common element in the universe and a major feature of your body, was produced in the big bang 13.7bn years ago. Heavier atoms such as carbon and oxygen were forged in stars between 7bn and 12bn years ago, and blasted across space when the stars exploded. Some of these explosions were so powerful that they also produced the elements heavier than iron, which stars can't construct. This means that the components of your body are truly ancient: you are stardust. - http://www.theguardian.com/science/2013/jan/27/20-human-body-facts-science  

Thirteen

We took an evening stroll down to the waters edge, collecting a discarded vacuum pipe and brush along the way. I am soothed by the young one’s unwavering joy in others rubbish. We happily pass the time. I watch little boats out on the horizon. They are tiny speckles on the blue. The clouds sweep slowly along above us. The sun shines low over the stones warming us in the early evening glow. Small waves lap gently up to our feet.

Along the tide line the vacuum is utilised to remove and examine the thick dark seaweed that has been trailed in a long thick border to the sea. I watch him play and wonder how it came to be there. It stretches the length of the beach in both directions, as far as we can see, like a scum line on the bath.

It occurs to me that the sea is clearing out, pushing off something unwanted. I picture it belching, burping and gurgling. Bringing up bits from far bellow and retching them out onto the beach. I stand still, my imaginings taking me beyond the shoreline, the stink of the seaweed becoming the deep unknown.

Suddenly a little voice shouts in excitement. The examinations have turned up something worthy. He pulls a bright green fleck from amongst the dark tendrils.

‘Look Mummy! Sea Lettuce!’

The sea swells with a deep unconsciousness. The water pulls us, to and fro, with each tide. It has the ability to both ease and unsettle me.

Twelve

We arrive, late as usual, to find children and adults milling around, dressed in floral May crowns. Sunlight streams through the trees and the sky rises high above us all in a clear vibrant blue. The children scamper, immediately, excited to join the play with their friends. I drop the bags and breathe.

A little tug at my leg

“Mummy, can I have a crown?”

So we sit and weave. Long trails of ivy circling round and round, adding daffodils, forget-me-nots, blossom and dandelions. Satisfied, she disappears once more, happily bedecked.

And so we while away the morning. The children work, making and crafting, building and sharing. Tools are carried and plans made. Little backs arched and plump tummies pushed out whilst heads listen on one side then nod in agreement with each other. All of a sudden a decision is reached and in a flurry of activity they all scatter before returning to each other at the far end of the woods.

I watch them working on their shelter, adorning and reinforcing on all sides. Not even the lure of the fire and popcorn can bring them from this important task.

All around life strains forth. Amongst the wood smoke little voices bring glowing touches to the idyll.

 My Lady Spring is dressed in green,

She wears a primrose crown,

And little baby buds and twigs

Are clinging to her gown;

The sun shines if she laughs at all,

But if she weeps the raindrops fall.

My Lady Spring, my Lady Spring

Eleven

I lit the little light, last night

Laid in bed, through sleep, I heard 
A muffled word

… “Mummy”…

She lay there and smiled
Small and wild my beautiful child
And quietly said

  …”Out of bed”…

The dark, dark night lit only by our little light

Ten

Something unknown broke across sleep and woke the boy.

With practised calm we lift him from his room to ours. A quick glance between us as we wonder 

‘how long will this one be?’ 

We sit on the bed, quietly, waiting for it to pass. Small arms flail and the young voice fills the room with misery.

Turbulent emotions flood through him, intensity flowing into us. Holding tight to the hope that arms and legs are not truly aimed at us, we wait.

And watch

And wait

Occasionally hushing or cooing or saying his name, we wait

And watch

And wait

Until the tide ebbs, recognition returns and we are able to hold and soothe him. As quickly as it came it is gone. He sleeps quietly, soundly and we lay there. Trying to transform all that we have absorbed.

Nine

We took a scooter each, thee and me, and headed out into the dark towards the beach. You wanted to find the first star of the evening. Down we go, weaving in and out and past each other. The dark warms and holds us in our own little bubble. Over the cobbles and across the lights we laugh, though this is serious fun. 

Down on the stones we look out over the sea. All the stars are cocooned away in the cloudy sky. 

'Never-mind' you say, 'lets scoot.'

Along the front we whirl and twirl, looping and figuring eights.

'Like this Mummy'

Then we stop and sit. You wipe the bench with your sleeve and explain the magic of the stars. I watch the city lights flashing and winking. Blurring past our stillness.

On the way home you ask me

'What do you wish for mummy?'

Eight

This is my favourite cup. I am always pleased when it happens to be at the front of the cupboard, waiting for one teabag or another. We get on well the cup and I. It’s smooth rimmed, sturdy weight reassures me that, actually, all is well. 

I daydream journeys. My cup of tea takes me to far-flung adventures; all the colours of the world are collected by my trusty camper. And then, revived, I return. Eyes open into the deep, insular square of my kitchen. But my cup still whispers:

'The world waits for you yet'

Seven

  

Sat on the train you pick up the pendants around my neck.

‘What that mummy?’ Little fingers move the beads, up, down and along the thin chain.

‘It’s a heart bead that Louie gave me’

‘Neckyoull?’ 

“Yes, on my necklace”

Kneeling on my lap you quietly contemplate the mismatched jewels. Then, satisfied, all are dropped and you throw your arms around my neck.

‘Tired mummy’ you sigh before leaning backwards and shaking your head from side to side until the wisps of hair swoosh around your face. 

Eyes closed a small smile grows until you laugh, delighted with this new accomplishment. 

And we glow in the shining golden warmth around us.

Six

'I don't need my wellies today' you told me. 'I don't feel like getting wet or muddy.'

I don't think you could resist.

The silt left behind in the bath after soaking your jeans-socks-legwarmers-jumper and shoes was so beautiful. We made prints.

[post-script: you stripped off and jumped in to wash it all away before running a hot deep bath and taking a long afternoon soak. And this makes me smile every time I think of it.]

Five

This is what we do

We change

And fold

And wipe and clean

This is what we do

We feed and bathe and sort and tidy

This is what we do

This is what we do

We smile

And laugh

And pick and press

This is what we do

We fix and make and play and sing

This is what we do

This is what we do

We wait

And save

 And think and hold

This is what we do

We cry and rage and shout and frown

This is what we do

Four

My elders

Teach me

Quiet voices whispering 

My story

Smoky threads infusing

A sense of self

The Elder

Grows here

Prolific blooms suffusing

The hedgerows

Bittersweet flowers connecting 

A sense of earth

My children 

Beside me

Quiet breaths diffusing

Into ether

Silent stories healing

A sense of soul

Three

Birds circle the old pier. Flocking like streamers
Ribbons and threads thrown to the wind
Up. Down
Around the silhouetted frames shapes morphing effortlessly 
from circle to teardrop and back to ribbon. 

We stopped on the way back from the park.
“What?”
you asked.
“Look at the birds” I said, “can you see?”

“Oh” 

We stood for maybe 10 minutes. No one noticed
On the way home you wanted to push.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

I saw them again today
In the half-light at dusk
Looping and swirling around the burnt out timbers
As the day faded away
 We walked to the railings above the beach
 Colours striped up from the heavy blue sea
Blunt against a bright horizon
The light fighting
And blurring through a wall of cloud
Grey, navy, black and dark
Stretching back overland and towards home. 

My heart stopped at the beauty of it. 

“I want to go on the beach”, you said. 

And the blue of your eyes fills me with wonder
For the whole world is held there within.

Two

I peeped in through the window, the one in the top of the door. To see you and let the adults know I had arrived to collect you. It was busy, children inside, parents outside and the bottleneck at the door. You stood quietly behind the other children, hugging your superman costume to your chest. The too big coat from the Samaritans shop made you look even smaller. Your face worried, bottom lip tucked under, I waved but you were looking the other way. As you turned to the door I made sure to catch your attention. Your face lit up as you ran straight through the jam and into me for a big hug.

“Did you have a lovely time?” I asked

“Yes”

One

 Moments between the moments 
Catch my breath 
And me

Something 
Invisible to the other eye 
Swells my heart

And I wonder how I will recall such shimmering joy