Dover. Southwest 4 to 6, increasing 7 or gale 8 for a time. Thundery showers. Moderate or good, occasionally poor. On Équihen-Plage, the wind angles north east across the beach. The tide is falling. Sand skitters, shimmers, bifurcates and deltas, rattles over the surface. Forming miniscule dunes against every obstacle. Seaweed becomes an embossed reliefContinue reading “Équihen Plage”
Author Archives: mudwriter
Blue Tit
Effortless gymnast Seeming weightless, upside-down Iridescent mouse
Morning at Seawick
E.W. Fillet and Son “The Butchers” “Our pork sausages a speciality” Mr Fillet backs up his van across the gravel outside the guest house at number 44. His seagull-white butcher’s coat flaps in the breeze as he gets out. All the best cuts of a pig that spent last summer sprawled in the Suffolk sun,Continue reading “Morning at Seawick”
The Gardener
The sun is shining. For the first time in months, Kalyna feels its warmth on her cheeks in the shelter of two walls. It gives her a stab of relief, to know that spring is emerging out of the darkness. The two walls meet to form a right angle and the ground here is muddyContinue reading “The Gardener”
The Depth of the Oceans
The first time he walked away from me, I felt dizzy with pride and fear. With his buckled, podgy baby legs and crowing with delight, he managed four steps before landing with a bump on his bottom. I felt a seismic shift in my world, the first losing of my child. His sweet smell, wideContinue reading “The Depth of the Oceans”
The House
It was a day of damp; of cold seeping from the sky and from grass that smelt of cellars and decay. It lined the bare branches and parasitic balls of mistletoe. Buds like clenched fists held the promised leaves of next year tight within them. Jessie and Will approached along an avenue of dark treesContinue reading “The House”
Winter to Spring
It’s raining as I set off on my walk. Not really wet, just a gentle drizzle. And it’s warmer than I expected, about 8 degrees Centigrade, so I revise my layers, ditching a warm layer for a waterproof one. It feels as if we are at an intersection between winter and spring today. I haveContinue reading “Winter to Spring”
Christmas Shopping
The shopping centre is busy, but not as frantic as you might expect on the last Saturday before Christmas. To me, not particularly drawn to crowds, it makes the experience less gruelling than expected; although I do turn tail when faced with a crowded Marks and Spencer’s food hall. I’m hungry and getting just aContinue reading “Christmas Shopping”
Swan Song
It’s one of the last sticky swan-song days of summer. In the shade of the trees, with the rippling water live-streaming reflections through the willow leaves, it feels as if the day could go on for ever. Only the tell-tale flecks of yellow betray a different story. A jazz-striped dragonfly helicopters past and long-tailed titsContinue reading “Swan Song”
Sunlight
Sunlight drifts On gossamer line Into autumn
Mudwriter 