Sometimes I miss the wonder of it, immersed in plans and busyness, but leaning out of my window on a spring morning I pause to smell the freshness, the scent of nature outside my window, the gentle warmth of the sun on my face, bringing colour and light to the surrounding garden. I remember the beauty of it all and I’m so glad to be alive.
from July 2014
Night was dark, all encompassing around him, punctuated with the echoes of far off shelling. He wanted it to be over.
The sheet clung to his body, damp, confining. Gone were the boyhood sounds of nature, gone too the human hubbub that distracted his thoughts during the day. At night he was alone with his fears; he could not hide from them. Again and again he traced threads in his head, patterns that had brought him here. He was not enamored of the man he had become, the blood of conflict stained his hands also. Faces loomed from the darkness of memory.
Once there had been love, and light. He had walked in sunshine. Now that was over and night ruled his ruined heart. Where was it going to end? Hate begets hate, when would he be free to love again?
A passing vehicle made patterns of light on the…
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Another foggy morning, not quite as splendid as the last but this time I took my camera!
Doesn’t do it justice, but I love the patterns of the trees.
Solitary swimmers in a sea of mist (again hard to capture).
Patterns and reflections, the stable and the flowing ribbons.
Surprised to see him there, if only I’d been fast enough as he spread his wings and flew away at the sound of my shutter.