Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Owls abound; to take flight?




Although not completely decided yet, I may be taking flight to wordpress.  I do like Blogger and it has been a wonderful home for indulging my amateur work.  But I am beginning to find the format on Wordpress more flexible.  Please feel free to find me there as I enjoy my on line community and the wonderful worlds you all inhabit.


Friday, 27 December 2013

Monday, 23 December 2013

Bringing in the Yule

May we all have the peace we crave, the inspiration to meet each day and the quiet joy of sharing with those who love us.

Thursday, 5 December 2013

Tempus fugit, small thoughts on time

Sad Time by Sergey Kondrashov
We can't touch it, smell it, see it flying away from us and yet it is one of our most precious possessions.  Time to savour, time to watch, time to listen, time to share, time to just sit in silence and be.  We squander it, waste it and use it up on the wrong things.  It can be stolen from us and,once gone, never be given back.
 
Durer: Melancholia

Saturday, 16 November 2013

Looking at the light






PS: have been feeling very slow and bogged down. Feel I need to look to the light.

Friday, 25 October 2013

Change and transformation


Having come out the other side of 6 weeks of worrying I have been surprised by the urge I have to change. At the start, when something threatens you (in this case health),  there is a certain retrenching that goes on. Initially you find yourself sailing on and trying to maintain normality; it cracks from time to time but overall you become practical and aim to keep going.

At the other end, after the first euphoria of relief there is a bombardment of different emotions.  Initially there is the counting of blessings, of which there are many.  Then there is the re-evaluation.  It is the latter that has been much on my mind, along with an unexpected feeling of blueness that I was not expecting at all.
Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colours. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” 
 Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky


Whilst that is mulling over there are other changes going on.  The season is turning and the leaves are falling from next doors birch and our apples.  The squirrels are stealing the birds food and then burying it around the garden.

There have been unexpected visitors, from the Greater Spotted Woodpecker in the apple tree, no pictures as I couldn't find the camera in time. There have been lady birds on the window and in the washing.  The wind is high and the sky is that peculiar silver-gilt that comes with autumn rain.

There is the change that processes through art, from this:
to this:

And for a while the creation of form is a solace and comfort.  The act of creation a physic that helps medicine away the melancholy.  As the autumn deepens and the season turns ever more golden I suspect I will move away from this restlessness and settle into my place again.  I appear to be a work in progress..



Sunday, 20 October 2013

Monday, 14 October 2013

The light is breaking through

It has been a long and hard slog, with much stumbling along the way.  At last, however, there is a ray of light breaking through the clouds.  To all of us walking difficult roads: keep your eyes on the heavens and take pleasure in the little things.


Tuesday, 1 October 2013

In support of protest

I rarely use this blog to discuss politics, my family or my working life in detail.  However!
Today I will apparently be "inconveniencing parents and damaging children's education" through the
withdrawal of my labour for one day.

One day to protest at the systematic dismantling of a state education system that provided me with the opportunity to learn and thrive because of dedicated teachers.
I am not striking because of the eroded pension rights, the performance related pay that will be based on a measure that is being removed; I am not striking because of the inception of a curriculum which has disregarded experts research over nostalgia for a  "golden age" of Jennings.
I am striking because this government has taken the idea of child out of education. They do not seem to recognise that a developing human being is not a computer file to be filled with academic programming. They appear to believe that children are little blobs of unformed putty that can be shoved into the one size fits all box.
I am striking because whilst I will be expected to care for someone else's children from 8 until 6 each day, my own will not have right to my time and care.  I am striking because the removal of non contact and rarely cover will mean that the preparation of lessons, materials and assessment of work will take what little time left for my family away from them.  (When else will I have time to mark 60+ scripts per day?  My children already think marking books is my hobby).
I am striking because children are being expected to perform academic tricks before they have learnt how to socialise, form relationships, learnt to communicate...
The loss of understanding of child hood is one of the most iniquitous parts of the current Early years plans.  Our children do their learning how to learn in this crucial time;  their most used question is Why?  The constant corrosive testing of, failing of, ranking of young people is divisive.  Fail often enough and you give up, Aren't you a level 4...don't forget you are a number.
Whether you agree or disagree with my choice of action is your personal opinion.  However every other form of objection and protest has fallen on wilfully deaf ears and I have to make a stand somewhere.
Today I will be making my protest because if I don't how then do I have the right to object to the way our children are being treated.

Sunday, 22 September 2013

'Indian Summer' afternoons

There is bryony in the hedgerows

There are acorns on the oaks.

The last butterflies sip in the last flowers.

Dog roses turn to red haws and hips on the bush.

Elder takes on a mantle of black jewels.

The footpath cuts across the furrows in single file.

Leaving the curves to the lie of the land.

Grazing in the knee deep grass, the sheep meander up the hill.

The final flowering of meadow flowers nestle in the hedgerow.

Sun and shadow dapple the green lanes.

Whilst neat farms dwell in the nest of fields and trees.

Purple flashes in the green, catching the eye.

Whilst teazles dwarf the signs inviting you on.

History can be found tacked to the brick wall.

Or standing on the side of the road.
Homeward bound.