I am a New-Zealand born Canadian exploring my lifelong passion for the English language and how incredibly powerful words can be, whether written or spoken. Glad to be part of a community that supports creativity and new artists.
Weathering the weather
It is predictable yet unpredictable. It can wreak havoc or sooth the soul, be a picture of beauty or one of horror. It often generates headline news and can make or break a day. The weather is like time; it dictates us. It influences our daily choices from clothes to activities and facilitates decisions on where to live and vacation. We are at the mercy of Mother Nature.
We lose it and find it. We can make it or break it. We watch it and ignore it. We stick to it or forget about it. We use it as an excuse or waste it. We can kill it.
I’m not going to lie. Giving birth was one of the most painful experiences of my life. After my first-born arrived, I vehemently declared that I would NEVER do that again. I had been in agony for 48 hours as my baby slowly slithered out of me. Back and forth she went with each contraction, carving her way through my birth canal. When the final, triumphant moment arrived, my anguish topped the Richter scale it was that earth-shatteringly excruciating. A daughter! Hannah Rose was finally here.
Write it down
Now that I have started, I simply can’t stop. My thoughts are continually racing, I have so many ideas and memories that have suddenly arrived in my consciousness that they wake me at night. They inexplicably merge as I blindly scribble on a notebook that has taken up residency in my bedside drawer. Once my left brain goes to sleep, the creative right side sits bolt upright. A literary bomb erupts in my head. A title is born; words gel and sentences stream. If I don’t write the flood of brain waves down, they will vanish by morning. Regurgitated back into my hippocampus and possibly never retrieved.
When your teenage daughter declares ‘ Mum, I have something to tell you”, one usually thinks the worst. When Hannah said this to me six years ago, I knew she wasn’t about to tell me something dire, and I had an inkling what she was going to declare. “ Mum, tomorrow I am shaving all my hair off’. Her beautiful hair! The locks that I had so lovingly braided from the time it was long enough to - and she could sit still for more than two minutes. Those natural curls that were often tamed straight or worn like Princess Lea.
THE KIWI IS NOT JUST FRUIT
Step1; Peruse produce market for oval-shaped, unappetizing-looking, fuzzy-feeling, light-brown fruit. Step2: Choose fruit that is firm but offers a little slack when lightly squeezed. If it feels soft, the inside will be mushy and only good for smoothies.
I bought this Moleskine with nothing in mind It was rather beautiful, and quite the find. Now what should I write in it? I did not know