It has started!!

Yesterday the builder started. Woopeeee!!!!! Finally we shall see some progress with the extensions to the house. Yesterday and today we have the sound of a pneumatic drill pounding in our ears but we are not complaining. We have also started on the bathroom, so far we have removed the old [navy blue] suite and all the [navy blue] tiles from the walls and ceiling!!!! so now we have bare walls that we will plasterboard then make a partition for the new loo. The middle bedroom will have an en-suite shower and basin leaving a larger more open landing. Well thats the theory!!!! The OH will attempt the plumbing with my invaluable advice and assistance so that any problems are down to both of us. We have miles or is that kms of copper piping and a shiny new blow torch and of course a cunning plan to avoid leaks. What cunning plan I hear you ask? A devilishly simple one ................we don't connect the water!!!!!!!! It will all be for show and guests will be required to use the outside loo and garden hose. He he he he.
Seriously though we are glad to be getting on with constructive work again. Oh and did I say it's snowing here. Nothing like poor old England but the hills are white in the distance.
At the moment I am sitting at the kitchen table because I can't use my laptop at my desk at the top of the house, I have earphones on with music to try and cut out the noise. However the other day as I was staring out of my little window this poem popped into my head.

My small window

Seated at my small window high above the village
From the deepening gloom lights spring forth.
The streets are glistenning from the rain
Car lights gleam briefly then retreat.
The tall conifer stands sentinel
Silhouetted against the distant hills.
Grey clouds heavy with expectation
Wallow slowly across the horizon
Catching the smoke that rises from the chimneys.
Darkness now envelopes the houses
Interspersed by pools of neon yellow,
Halos of light blossom above the lamp posts.
The temperature drops quickly
As the shutters are slammed shut.
Will the stars appear tonight
Or will they be obscured from view.
-------------------
One of my bright stars has gone forever and it still hurts.

When I heard about our fellow racer who has such a desperate fight ahead of her this came to me because I know that we all guilty of wasting time.

Precious time

As the darkness folds in on itself
To make way for a new day
And the first tendrils of light
Creep along the edges of the earth
The world shakes the sleep
From its eyes
And promises renewed hope.
And as I get to glimpse another day
I am grateful.
But each new day
Means one less for me.
I have so little time to do
Everything I have dreamed of.
Yet when the days stretched
Endlessly before me
I was lazy and wasteful.
Now those precious moments
Have gone for good
Never to be retrieved.
So I must kidnap
The days that are left
Hold them tightly in both hands
And make of them what I can.
--------------
Pain and deep sorrow focus the mind
Fearing our own mortality
Concentrates our thoughts.
From grief and anguish ideas blossom and grow.

I have no idea whether these poems have any merit but it doesn't really matter. Atleast it feels creative so I let myself be led by the thoughts that come to me at all times of the day or night. Now I'm off to type up some of my wip as I don't think I can be very creative with the amount of noise around me at the moment.

Strictly come dancing and anonymous poets!!

I'm rather under the weather at the moment with a stinker of a cold, sore throat, chesty cough etc. So I've not managed to do much at all this week. No running, no cycling,no writing, just feeling sorry for myself. However I do want to thank Anonymous for the lovely poem she/he left in a comment on my last post, do let me know who you are.

I have managed to plant some lovely Pansies that we bought at the Market on Sunday [not a good photo but it was the best I could manage today] some delicate colours to brighten up the Winter, although the weather has been glorious for the last few weeks, warm sunny days and mild nights. We are still waiting to hear when the builder is going to start, two or three weeks we hope, it will probably start raining then!!!!

A couple of weeks ago the OH and I started Dance classes in the nearby town. The OH wants to learn to jive and we thought it would be a good way to meet people. We have signed up for Latin American starting with Salsa and Pasa Doble this term, jive comes later. It is proving to be good fun but much more difficult than we anticipated. We go on a Thursday evening from 9pm to 10pm, we go with a couple of English friends but the rest of the wannabe dancers are all French. Luckily we all seem to be blessed with two left feet so nobody stands out. We have a couple of drinks at a local bar first just to loosen up, tongues and feet!!! It has done us good to make the effort and our friends appreciate me translating for them. I think it will be hard work tonight but I daren't miss a lesson.

Today I am going to try and get some more of my wip typed up so I can update my word counter. It will be good to see it moving forward again.

Sad Sundays

Our son died on a Sunday morning, he had gone to work as he did every Sunday to do the milking for a farmer that he had worked for for many years. He knew the herd very well and had assisted more than a few of them into this world. Amongst them was his favourite cow, Whiskey. This is how I think about that morning.

Sunday Morning

Soft mist over cool green Devon fields
Dew sparkling in the early morning sun
A gentle breeze murmuring through the hedges.
Cows with kindly brown eyes
Stand in silent confusion, heavy with milk,
First a patient lowing then
A shifting of their hooves
A quickening of their breath
A snort, a nudge.
But still the steady drone of the tractor
Stopped forever in a moment of time.

Then the sound of sirens, all peace destroyed
The herd scatters, then when all is quiet
They return silently
Carefully probing the empty tractor.
For a moment they are lost
Something has changed.
But the call of the Milking Parlour is strong
And they must answer.
Only one remains
Whiskey remembers.