Seemingly hard polished outside,
Smooth, shiny and cool to the touch.
Perfect for travels far and wide;
Pochette for cleansers, paints and such.
What am I?
Outer marching ants stitched just right.
Inside cheerful stripes on white.
Timeless, long lasting luxury;
A welcome gift for you and me.
What am I?
The perfect gift for Father’s Day!
I am promoting the Kangaloon Leather Toiletry / Storage Bag (available on Amazon) for my dear friend Libby. The same friend I mentioned in my post The way of the gull.
Lone visitor, a clown,
Left to own devices
On a street of vices.
An unfamiliar town.
Enticed as music woos,
Sway in time with the beat.
Too chilled to go and eat,
Perfect night for the blues.
To leave, it seems too soon.
Cars go by with whishes
To the clink of dishes,
By the light of the moon.
Restless nights; a strange bed,
Dubious caffeine fix
Is no help as time ticks.
Pleased to go home instead.
(c) Robert Jones 2014, All Rights Reserved
I had planned to write about this topic by listing the words I believe to describe “success” in achieving hearth side harmony. On reflection this would indicate that once one has reached this place all is right with the world. Unfortunately this box can never be ticked off.
In the photograph the intensity of the shadows changes as clouds pass in front of the sun. At just the right moment the shape of the tree will be clearly revealed on the wall. This illustrates the balance between light and dark; the clouds act as a barrier. When the sun is obscured by clouds the shadow disappears, does this mean that it did not exist?
Similarly, the window connects the inside with the outside. An obscured window reduces the information that is available for the human brain to process which in turn can lead to an untruth.
Perceptions and assumptions behave like clouds and dirty windows, they distort reality. I believe that peace is achieved by members of the household being present, taking a moment to see beyond the clouds and consciously acting rather than reacting.
In the mid ’90s I was living on the outskirts of Worcester, UK. While out for a stroll I came across some farm buildings that were being converted into a restaurant. Being England, a pleasant sunny afternoon quickly turned dark as rain clouds rolled in from the Malvern Hills. I decided to head home; on turning the corner of the farm I noticed a number of framed portraits on the side of the road leaning against the side of a red brick barn. The pictures were in various states of decay suffering from water damage and mildew.
By now large rain drops began falling, so I hastily grabbed one the photographs and headed home. I was able to lightly clean the picture and restore the frame.
My female ancestors have a curious assortment of first names from Doris through Hilda to Emmelina. As far as I was aware none were named Maud, so as the the unknown woman in the picture looked like someone I wouldn’t mind having as an ancestor she became my adopted Aunt Maud. Years later while researching relatives in my family tree I found I had a great grand mother called Matilda. Maud is a medieval form of Matilda, spooky………..
Aunt Maud hangs above a stone mantle piece in the kitchen. The fireplace would have housed the range when the house was built around the turn of the 20th century. A fitting place for my great grandmother’s namesake to watch over us.