New Dawn

This morning, I put on half my wardrobe and went out while it was still dark to watch the Solstice sun rise. I left the boys safe and warm and wandered, alone but with a head full of thoughts for company, to my quiet nature sanctuary.

There was a spring in my step as I walked on pavements, glittering with quartz, avoiding frozen puddles and leaving deep footprints in the hard frost. Because last night, on the longest night, I got MY longest night for 18 months.

Kai slept. At last. He slept. And so did I.

Waking up briefly at 10pm, he settled holding my hand and then I didn’t hear from him again until 6am. When I went in to him, all tousled and wrinkled from his long sleep, he smiled me a smile that told me he knew he’d done an important thing. And with a excited hug and a frantic tug towards our bedroom he was eager to snuggle up with me and his dad and have his first, long and happy feed since before he’d gone to bed. By Jove, I think he’s got it.

It may not be repeated tonight, in fact I expect not, but that’s ok. We’ve turned a corner here, I can feel it. And the hope for better nights, and finally some refreshing sleep, has never been stronger.

And so, with the energy that comes only from a decent stretch of sleep, I walked this morning. For over an hour I sought out the sun from its hiding place and watched as it rose, glowing and golden from the horizon. I watched the light change, touching the icy marshes, and the world transform.

I thought a lot. About the last 18 months, about the next year ahead. About my hopes and my anxieties and my confusion sometimes about why on earth I am here and what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. I didn’t find answers, but as the geese flew across the grapefruit sky in a perfect V, I too found some peace.

A new day has dawned.

Happy Yule everyone x

Christmas Break

In case you were at all worried that I had suffered some sort of nervous breakdown over the weekend and had been whizzed away to a padded room sans Wi-Fi, I’m here to reassure you: I’m fine. The being whizzed away part was true, although there were fewer men-in-white coats and electric shock treatment and more obese ducks and sitting around drinking tea watching the sunset. Either way, it was good therapy. Dad’s off to China so this weekend marked our family’s pre-Christmas gathering at a beautiful cottage nestled by the canal. The weather was gorgeous, the company witty and entertaining (well, I was anyway), the Christmas tree was only slightly crap looking. There was food, there was cheesy Christmas music, there were long walks in frost. It was fab.

Now I’m home and trying very hard to fight off all the worries that I had thought I’d left behind.

I have a ton of stuff to do before the end of the month. Cleaning is one. Pulling 2,500 words of literary brilliance out my ass is another. Finding a way to survive financially through the toughest two months of the year is pretty high up there too. Oh yeah, and it’s Christmas isn’t it. Which means I should probably write some cards or something.

Apologies if you’ve arrived looking for the Writing Workshop prompts but I’ve decided to close up shop till the New Year. There will still be blogging and twittering, but as-and-when, in between all the other stuff with no added pressure of workshop deadline’s type blogging and twittering.

There is good news though: if you’re REALLY stuck for inspiration this week then you are very welcome to email or tweet me and I will provide you with your very own, customised, one-of-a-kind writing prompt. Call it a Christmas present.

In the meantime, if you fancy looking at some beautiful scenery and some ducks and stuff then click here to be magically transported to the rest of my weekend snaps.

And because this post seems to have a slightly (and unintentionally) melancholy edge, I’m going to finish on a high note. Apologies if you’ve seen these already but it is TOO cute not to share…

Urban Sanctuary

I was disappointed not to get the chance to do the photo prompt on this week’s workshop. Photography (of the amateur kind) is a bit of a secret passion of mine, although not one I seem to have invested a lot of time in lately. My camera is a bit rubbish and not working very well, with a battery life of about 20 minutes if you don’t use the flash, but it takes reasonable pictures.

So, this morning when there was finally a break in the rain, me and Kai wrapped up and set off to take some photos to introduce you to the very best thing about my home neighbourhood. We moved into our tiny terraced house 7 years ago at a time when I still couldn’t walk very far so it was actually only once I had started walking longer distances again, about 3 years ago, that I discovered this place.

There is a lot I don’t like about where I live. It is extremely urban and grey, right in the centre of our town. It only takes ten minutes to walk to the town centre which is a plus point, but the off-set is endless streets of wheelie bins and on-street parking, dog poo and just the odd, stunted tree. Our neighbours are horrendous and although we’ve made a good first home, I’ve never really put down roots here and am, quite frankly, desperate to move.

But this place is my sanctuary, my breath of life in an otherwise pretty soulless part of town. Two minutes walk from my house there is a footpath that winds its way between estates, coming out alongside the wide open space of the Common, working it’s way under the main roads and eventually to the town centre itself.

Rubbish and graffiti nestle alongside the trees and vegetation but the over whelming feeling is one of green and open skies, nature finding itself a little foothold and not letting go. As you walk you eventually leave houses behind, walking through the middle of the gorgeous town graveyard and coming to the wide pools and marshes of Nature Reserve that sits nestled against our little town.

It’s like having a little piece of the countryside that I can escape to whenever I am feeling a little hemmed in by the oppressiveness of urban living. I am a country girl at heart and having this small peace of green so close has saved my sanity many times over.

Anyway, enough words now – here is the rest of  my little slice of home…

P.S. Dear Santa, if had maybe a spare Canon SLR lying around and that you might like to give to a good home, I promise I would be good for the rest of my life. (I still believe in you by the way…) x