By Amanda Young
She softly lifts the green grazing-grass
and lowers herself delicately into bed.
Covering over with the duvet-turf,
she closes her eyes to the ivory moon.
Wild horses come close
and rest their heads next to hers.
The paunches of belly-mounds form new hills
like babes asleep in the wood.
Children sing a fading tune to the rhythm of a rocking-horse.
She hums along in her sleep, wild woman sleep.
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Silently she pushed
by Amanda Young
Silently she pushed
the wet, wooden wheelbarrow up the narrow path
in her long brown coat − elbows poking out.
It swooped and flapped, striking hard against her legs.
A gust of wind tore her grey and raffia hair across her narrow mouth.
She spat. Curled in her stinging lips. At the bend
she stopped. A tree-tumbling thud, dropped
the cart of crops. And reached down
with a snap of her aching back − a crumpled sheet of sunburnt paper.
A photo of a wigwam?
She drew her focus in.
Three young boys − 7 or 8 in smocks
standing conker-kneed, between the doorway of their tent.
She folded the paper to a triangle and in half again −
And put it deep into her pocket
amongst a dry stick of lavender and three copper coins.
She took in an ancient breath of smoked-oak,
lifted again the tired barrow. As she walked,
the cabbages smeared with slug-brown mud
bobbed between crackling onions.
Silently she pushed
the wet, wooden wheelbarrow up the narrow path
in her long brown coat − elbows poking out.
It swooped and flapped, striking hard against her legs.
A gust of wind tore her grey and raffia hair across her narrow mouth.
She spat. Curled in her stinging lips. At the bend
she stopped. A tree-tumbling thud, dropped
the cart of crops. And reached down
with a snap of her aching back − a crumpled sheet of sunburnt paper.
A photo of a wigwam?
She drew her focus in.
Three young boys − 7 or 8 in smocks
standing conker-kneed, between the doorway of their tent.
She folded the paper to a triangle and in half again −
And put it deep into her pocket
amongst a dry stick of lavender and three copper coins.
She took in an ancient breath of smoked-oak,
lifted again the tired barrow. As she walked,
the cabbages smeared with slug-brown mud
bobbed between crackling onions.
Monday, 26 March 2012
An update along the way
Where are we then? Somewhere between here, and here...
Delia Derbyshire the pussy cat continues to look down on us...
At the weekend, I was working out how to use the timer on the camera...
and worked it out as we were cruising along.
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Underway with DIY
Of late I have been having fun and games with our lovely tool kit and paint pots. I have finally got round to painting in the bedroom and gave the bow doors a sand down and fresh coat of white. I have been using 'bathroom' paint which is perfect for the changing temperatures and humidity on the boat.
I have been using my favourite investment, the powerdrill, to make holes in the battons and base of the raised garden bed.
I have assembled and then disassembled the base as things ended up a little crooked and I don't have a plane to take of the slight overhanging edge of the base panels. Fortunately, however, after talking to Papa Bear this fine evening, I can borrow his plane when I next visit. Horrah for Papa!
I am very much a novice at woodwork, having not had a lot of practice and I realised the other day, I have to be in the right frame of mind to tackle this project. And like the wise man says; measure and measure again. In addition, I have noticed that if I had a pound for every time a guy made a comment to me whilst I have been doing this DIY outside, I would be living on a gold plated boat!
I have been using my favourite investment, the powerdrill, to make holes in the battons and base of the raised garden bed.
I have assembled and then disassembled the base as things ended up a little crooked and I don't have a plane to take of the slight overhanging edge of the base panels. Fortunately, however, after talking to Papa Bear this fine evening, I can borrow his plane when I next visit. Horrah for Papa!
I am very much a novice at woodwork, having not had a lot of practice and I realised the other day, I have to be in the right frame of mind to tackle this project. And like the wise man says; measure and measure again. In addition, I have noticed that if I had a pound for every time a guy made a comment to me whilst I have been doing this DIY outside, I would be living on a gold plated boat!
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
Stepping into spring!
The spring equinox has arrived and the days are beaming full of bright goodness. Ahhh... we made it through our second winter living aboard pretty much unscathed.
The early mornings over the past few days have been delightful. During breakfast I have watched the waterfoul go about their business including a swan sleeping on what I think is her nest. We have a lovely view from the many windows of lime green willow trees swaying gently and dried reeds that reflect in the mirrored water like architectural monuments.
I am reading the Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield on the free bus to and from work and I am finding it truly inspiring. It was a book lent to me by a lovely lady who I find to be on the same page. It uplifts my mood, brings the goodness out and I find, balances the motions of paid work.
In the hour before the sun went down today, I got out the workbench, tape measure, power drill and pencil and set about measuring up and drilling the holes in the foundation batons and base of the raised garden bed. These pieces are now ready to be screwed together with some hefty brass screws I have. My vision for a garden afloat is coming together.
I've got some time off work this weekend and I am hoping we will go cruising, to get out of Nottingham and feel the breeze in our hair. Where to? Well, I'm wondering about heading out on the river towards Lincoln...
The early mornings over the past few days have been delightful. During breakfast I have watched the waterfoul go about their business including a swan sleeping on what I think is her nest. We have a lovely view from the many windows of lime green willow trees swaying gently and dried reeds that reflect in the mirrored water like architectural monuments.
I am reading the Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield on the free bus to and from work and I am finding it truly inspiring. It was a book lent to me by a lovely lady who I find to be on the same page. It uplifts my mood, brings the goodness out and I find, balances the motions of paid work.
In the hour before the sun went down today, I got out the workbench, tape measure, power drill and pencil and set about measuring up and drilling the holes in the foundation batons and base of the raised garden bed. These pieces are now ready to be screwed together with some hefty brass screws I have. My vision for a garden afloat is coming together.
I've got some time off work this weekend and I am hoping we will go cruising, to get out of Nottingham and feel the breeze in our hair. Where to? Well, I'm wondering about heading out on the river towards Lincoln...
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