But I still went to the beach at Sidmouth where it was low tide and bright sunshine. April tomorrow, I’m hoping for some warmth!
A lovely National Trust property, Saltram has been overlooking the River Plym for three hundred years. If it looks familiar, it was one of the settings for 1995 film version of Sense and Sensibility. I didn’t go into the house today but the grounds were beautiful, well worth a visit if you’re in the Westcountry.
Sara Rosso created the Weekly Photo Challenge this week and asks us to show our day. I really hope that all of you had a more interesting one than I did, I’ve been flitting around getting things done so that I can play for the next three days! You can join in at http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/03/29/photo-challenge-day-in-the-life/
So how was your day?
If you are one of my regular, treasured visitors you will know that I don’t often re-blog, but this is my second today. This is Anne Kealy’s Poem Frost Faeries and I love it. In fact I’ve loved all the poems on her blog so far and if I wasn’t such a lazy poet her style and talent is what I would aspire to. Read and enjoy Frost Faeries, maybe take a peep around her work, you won’t be disappointed, LG.
They came on the chill of a windless night
with faces of glass, diamond eyes, startled hair –
the air crackling and splintering
before their icy breaths.
On brittle wings they hovered
and with spindled fingers etched in ice
upon my sleeping window
intricate fronds and filigrees, unicorns, dragons,
demons, whirling divas, souls of songs –
Sunlight-captured, burning bright and clear.
Waking now, I still hear strands of laughter
as they skate away – stealing
those far flung crystal mornings.
Look where Mr Salopek is now! If you haven’t heard about this incredible journey have a look back over his pages. The Glorious Boneyard: A Report From Our Starting Line – Out Of Eden Walk.
Timid fragile flower with strength
to bear and thrive through frost
you push your way through compacted soil
to spread a sunshine blanket
under woodland canopy
where no sun shines
you remain pure along shoulders
of polluted carriageway
and in a cemetery of tombstones
you stand alert and alive
your palest glow a greeting
that follows with fragrance elusive
as your unfolding gown dallies
its subtle caress in green velvet folds
Julia says, ‘As Easter is nearly with us and the shops are bulging with it,’ the prompt is:
…looking at all of that chocolate…
I stood looking at all of that chocolate and was carried back in time to my childhood home. Then I didn’t know what chocolate tasted like, I just knew the yellow pods had to be harvested and sent away, so that children in other countries could have something called Easter eggs. But eggs came from chickens. I asked if a chicken was inside. I covered my eyes as father took a machete and aimed, I didn’t want to see a baby chick cut open. Bang, and then there was something creamy. I put my finger in and tasted, so this was chocolate? But what about the eggs?
the most ridiculous news story goes to . . .
Only in Essex, unless you can tell me otherwise?
I’m sure the ones in the photo above were delicious and very safe, photo by http://100cookbooks.wordpress.com/2013/01/09/dairyfree-vegan-flapjacks/