These muted days

​Your blankets have been hot-washed, tumbled and donated  and your corner of the kitchen is clear and simply a kitchen corner again,  suitable for the storage  of dustpans and brushes, dinner trays  and a box of emergency toys and crayons for the kids.   You were my baby  and I loved you  and I could…

The little one

The little one has mucus gathered at her nose this evening and she lays in my arms unpurring and still, onyx eyes open.   Her tiny animal heart  beats at a speed she surely cannot take for too long.   My fingers touch it, fluttering wildly in the cage of her ribs, beneath her front limbs  when…

15th December

Just a quick post to let you know that my beloved grandma passed away at 10:15am today.  After the rollercoaster of the past few days, the end was very peaceful and we were all by her side.   There is, of course, tremendous emptiness and sadness, but I am so grateful that both of my…

Transcending the body

When the vicar, Sarah, arrived yesterday to see my grandmother and to say a prayer for her, she walked into the room and said “Oh, it doesn’t look like Dora.”   Far from being an insensitive comment, it was tinged with tenderness and some surprise.  Of course, she would have always seen my grandma at…

Splintered fences

There are morning crows on the splintered fences, yakking and pushing each other around.  The first crunches of ice on the ground, these cheap boots that let the water in. I want this all to be over.  I want it only to begin. I long to reach in to the gut and the lungs and…

Words from a rugged master

Tonight I felt like sharing three of my favourite Jim Harrison poems.  He was able to capture incredible beauty and inspire a deep love of the natural world in a way that was simple, pure and raw.  I love the powerful combination of grit and tenderness in his words.   Enjoy. Seven in the Woods…