A heart full of love
The greatest joy
That I possess
11 words, written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Possess
A heart full of love
The greatest joy
That I possess
11 words, written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Possess
I’m not usually a weather-wimp but high winds coupled with sub-zero temperatures… ain’t no fun walking beach nor marsh. And so this dive into the archives.
14th February 2017 and the sun shines and the air is warm and I catch a bus and another bus and by 9:00 am I arrive at Poringland, and the second highest point in (flat) Norfolk. Two aerial masts constructed during WWII provide a landmark for miles around (here’s just one)
From Poringland to Upper Stoke… where I stop to admire the snowdrops
Leaving the road I follow a footpath across fields grazed by sheep
This is “big tree” country…
The path edges a woodland…
where I’m delighted to see the hazel’s catkins…
and yet more big trees (2 shots, same tree)
Looking back…
And looking down…
btw, the winding line is a lane and to the far side of it is one of the earliest known Anglo-Saxon burial sites in England
The Tas Valley where in Roman times stood the regional city of the Iceni (Boudicca’s people) Venta Icenorum
The remaining walls fail to impress me
(I’m used the well-preserved walls of C3rd Roman fort at Burgh Castle)
Within the old town the first Christians here built their church, now dedicated to East Anglia’s own martyred Saint Edmund
A walk by the river, finding a place to stop for my lunch. Incredible, 2,000 years ago this was the wharf; here Roman galleys and barges moored to unload their wares brought up river from Burgh Castle (just outside Gt Yarmouth)
As ever, I hope you enjoyed the walk. I know I did. It was so warm, my jacket came off, I walked bare-armed. Today, four years on, I shiver.
Most mornings I take a photo of this lamppost from various angles as a focal point for whatever the sky is doing. This time I took the photo at night.
Focal Point, from the list provided for #2021picoftheweek provided by Maria Antonia
Into the woods to play
On such a lovely warm spring day.
If at the Beech Tree I knock by three
The Woodland Mother lets me sit on her knee;
She’ll tell me tales of the woodland gnomes
Who beneath the woodland bank have made their homes;
Stories too of the woodland elf
Who tends the herbs that give us health.
And then to a sunny woodland dell
The whereabouts I shall not tell,
To stretch and laze throughout the day
And watch the fairies at their play.
Cos I love to have fun!
Welcome to my weekly challenge—open to all—just for FUN, FUN, FUN
Here’s how it works:
Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.)
You respond with something CREATIVE
Here are some suggestions:
You have plenty of scope and only two criteria:
If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it
If you include Crimson’s Creative Challenge as a heading, WP Search will find it (theory)
by ‘Searching’ in the WP Reader (fingers crossed)
Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN
I’d heared of him; he lived in the hills above our town. “Don’t you go there,” our mother would say. “He’ll eat you up and gobble you down.”
We thought him a gobelin or ogre or such, created out of the minds of our unmodernised parents. We didn’t believe he were real. Not till Sasha disappeared that day.
“That’ll be Gargantua has caught ‘er and munched ‘er.” our brother Tad said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ma scolded. Yet I could see she were shaking, head to toe.
She shook yet more when they brought down the bones.
96 word for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Gargantuan
Thursday morning the sun dazzled, reflected off the windows opposite, making me feel like a lazy slouch for writing instead putting on shoes and coat and getting out there for a walk. But lunch taken, I succumbed. After all, Met Office is warning of heavy snow and freezing temperatures over the weekend; plenty of time to stay in and type.
As usual as I cross Haven Bridge I stop to take a photo…
At Breydon, the clouds forms are fantastic. And this ranger’s boat is in a tearing hurry
It leaves a notable wake… now I see why the Broads cruisers are governed down so can’t go so fast. Maybe the people had an emergency
Excitement passed, I return to my study of clouds…
And turn to glance back… as is my wont… wow! that’s blue…
…and turn back. And frown. Why has the temperature dropped? I can taste ice on the air. I feel it too. Brrr… that’s chilly…
Wow! Look how thick this mist, all within a few minutes. No wonder I’m cold
Again looking back… it looks like a cloud has dropped. I’d think it if this was at height, but this is sea-level
Time to move away from the water. But now there’s a big cloud covering the sun
Love this tree… the only reason needed for it to be…
At the end of the lane there is a farmyard… nah, turning around, time to go home
And hey, I’ve found where the beach donkeys go out of season! I decided not to get any closer
And reeds. You know I can’t come here without taking photos of reeds… love reeds
and finally a return to the bridge. See how much the sky has changed
Hope you’ve enjoyed our little walk. Took less than 2 hours.
Breydon Water exhibits many moods, but only in a gale does it turn you away. The sun Thursday lunchtime drew me out. I’ll leave you to read how it turned to this [See tomorrow’s post] Not as much as a gull or a wader to break this silence. Mist muffled.
Quiet, from the list provided for #2021picoftheweek provided by Maria Antonia
Neve refused to speak to Raesan until safely arrived at the heliport. And the tension… like she sat in a bath with someone butter-fingered holding a bar-heater above her. It was a wonder the combined anger of Rat and Raesan didn’t burn every strand of the helicopter’s wiring. Five minutes into the flight, Neve would have talked about the latest soaps, anything to cut through the air of hostility. Instead, Rat distracted her with talk of his Viking past.
Excerpt from Learning to Fly, out in paperback and e-book 1st April 2021