Here's a choice for you!

Either:
a) go upstairs, irons bed linen (yep!), vacuum floor in bedroom (following extensive diy of putting chair together yesterday), tidy bits and pieces of every day life....

or:
b) get on the internet here and think of something to write that may be of interest to others.

Ah Ah, challenging choice, no?

For the moment I seem to have picked the "b" option...Let's see where that takes us...

Pretty much always to the same places: how marvelous flowers look, how grateful I am for the many wonderful friends I have (that includes my son, Paul)and for being a happy soul; how tricky it is to think outside one's own box, outside of one's own patterns...

Tell me! Is is even desirable to think outside one's own patterns? Reading other folks'blogs on a regular basis -definitely more regular than my writing, I feel that there is something reassuring in the affirmation of each one's personality, interests, style, expertise even. This mode of communication, over time does build an exquisitely accurate portrait of its authors. (I must have intuitively felt that, when I wrote my own introduction: "the Blog will reveal the person...") I'm even proud of the fact that my Blog can never be a candidate for the hall of technical fame...since the most thing I can do is put a link to an internet address! I think the plain, uncluttered style fits well with my own aspirations to simplicity.

I was reminded recently of a real landscape I visited once with Mike, my once husband and now close friend. He was asking me if I remembered? The facts of memory are a wonder: I did! On the south coast of England, not far from Plymouth, there is a coastal road, above the cliffs, which at one point gets separated from the coast by a large wheat field. His father had once shown him the way down to the sea from there. We parked the car and crossed the wheat field. Above us as we crossed the field, a massive bird of prey was hovering, hovering, hovering, until it swooped, right in front of us -probably after a vole or a field mouse...We watched it for what seemed ages doing its bird-of-prey-y things...Then, there was a wooded lane going steeply down to the sea.Muddy, slippery. A rickety house clinging by the skin of its stones to the slope, abandoned. I remember playing the vulnerable delicate flower woman and winging about how steep the slope was, how I was never going to be able to get back up...what a pain I was then! Anyway the point is I do remember. And the unspoiled, secret beach at the bottom of the lane. Stripping and jumping in the sea like children. A cormorant wings stretched full out on a rock, drying its feathers. Mike teaching me to use binoculars properly. A feeling of eternity...

He is coming to visit England soon, from Malawi, and will be trying to buy that house for his children, if it hasn't fallen into the sea that is! From there, they will have a clear view across a bay, over the mighty sea and the infinite skies...Good luck Mimi!

Jocelyne