I’m an Ent not an ent wife.

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For those not as deeply steeped in Tolkien as me that means I prefer wild nature to cultivated (which is perhaps why I like my semi wild allotment and the folks that share it so much.better than the regular kind).

I feel as far as gardening goes God has it down so much better than me, the random plantings of bird and wind perfect in their lack of symmetrical order.

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Our weekly walks seem to have taken root and with them venturing into the wilder parts of the lake areas (in company I take time to walk further) the abundance of wild flowers blooming among nettles and cow parsley delights my eyes.

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Half fallen or decayed trees make fantastic patterns, decorated with hanging ivy, and pools of water reflect the greenery, even the old English rose grows wild in places.

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I am truly blessed!

Return to my Ivory Tower.

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ivory towerFrom June 23rd. 2014

Song Bird Songs

Well it’s not actually ivory and it’s only two stories, but it is an idyllic place and I do have a “knight in shining armor” living next door, a “jack of all trades” with a heart of gold who routinely rescues folks (not only me). The lakes and trees are nearby for me to wander in and my quaint old English town is dressed in red and white flags (world cup fever strikes even here.)
The love birds have returned from their honeymoon and I’m free of watching over my grandkids. It was precious having the company of my other daughter for a while, here from China for the wedding, and my eight year old grandson is a great guy. We spent wonderful afternoons together enjoying the benefits of the love birds’ home, picnicking under the pavilion in the garden, listening to the birds, the sound of the little river…

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Pleasure’s Vigil

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after ban(from June 22nd. 2014)

Song Bird Songs

(Flash fiction on the theme of pleasure)

The ball is over. Chairs stand like silent sentinels, their tumbled silhouettes baring record of revels, each telling its story. The table’s rows, once neat and occupied, are now abandoned, askew, their late owners having vacated to other pleasures.

The ballroom chairs tell of wallflowers, sitting primly, fans aflutter. Masculine chairs turn in clusters where rowdy conversation once reigned. Drunken chairs, like their owners, lay in sprawled stupor.

But what is this? A peal of childish laughter breaks the silence, as a dog, bright eyed, ears flapping bounds across the room pursued by running feet, soft and fresh from sleep. As one day ends another begins. A white cloth, formerly adorning the counter becomes a tug of war, – sharp teeth versus chubby hands. A pitcher of wine that managed to survive the night’s foray falls victim, and, seized upon by eager fingers…

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Summer love…

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Great post for summer solstice, beautifully written!

Moylom Art Studio

Shoulders bare
Ready to be kissed by the sun.
‘Tis the season of sundresses,
Sleeveless tops, skirts and freedom.

Freedom to roam,
Freedom to feel,
Freedom to breathe,
Freedom to just be.

To sit by the water’s edge
Feeling the cool breeze kiss my cheeks
As though to say,
“Hello,  I’ve missed you… ”

I smile,  basking in its embrace,
Lifting my hair off my shoulders
For more of its kisses as I whisper softly,
” I’ve missed you too… ”

Ah,  Summer is here!
I mostly enjoy our time together
In the early hours or late into the night,
For it is more than I can handle otherwise.

But it understands my needs
And satisfies them thoroughly
For it knows our time is short —
It must leave soon.

Small doses of time and love
Are all we have each year
But we both know
It makes our time…

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