HOW IT STARTED, HOW IT’S GOING
This morning the cool air is very welcome. It carries the vague scent of cut flower stems.
Alt text suggested this week’s photos could be a collage of a person lying on the grass or a collage of a person smiling. I say it is my author photo from 2020 alongside one of my author photos from 2025.
I still like the photo of me lying in the rosemary from five years ago, but can never unsee the single hair under the word poet which escaped my notice at the time. And I really like the recent photo. It’s actually me!
Not only can I face the camera and smile now, I am also willing to pose for more than one photo at a time. That’s a lot of progress. And I am proud and intrigued to look back and see where I have come from. Of course if you ask Kath how difficult I find it to stand still and gaze into the middle distance or how many photos we rejected along the way there is a story there too!
A look backwards before continuing forwards, gives the perfect opportunity to highlight the moments worth celebrating. It also shows the value of repeated actions over time. I have increased my daily walk to 55 minutes instead of 40 and found the additional motivation I needed in the latest Mary Chapin Carpenter album 'Personal History’. It has been the soundtrack to my walk since it was released in early June and now I can listen to the whole thing through and choose a couple of tracks to revisit as I end my walk. That album has been my constant companion every day and I love that I listen to it from beginning to end just like I listened to albums when I was young. It has a beautiful arc to it and is the perfect soundtrack to my walking this summer.
It was also a good job that whilst talking to my brother about my fitness journey he said, “I suppose you just keep extending what you are doing by a little bit more each time.” Just the right reminder nudge I needed to introduce that increase. It’s good to say things out loud and see how they sound in the air when you listen in. I also heard myself talking about wishing I regularly went for a walk at the beginning of the day and then heard my cogs whirring as I wondered why I didn’t and what the benefits would be if I did. I am not quite there with leaping out of bed to walk first thing, but I am making progress.
This week I am grateful for friends who have gone on walks with me, met me for coffee (which is often tea or water, but I call it coffee nonetheless), rung me just to say hello, and hugged me when we found ourselves brought together for a special occasion.
Here’s to hearing yourself think and finding the joy in sharing time with others.
Because I have started thinking about a possible entry for Poetry Archive NOW WordView 2025 here’s a poem that I enjoyed entering in the past. It’s about the pond in the park in Herne Bay. My brother and I used to canoe on it, my sister and I saw a gull eat a duckling after swooping for bread, and each visit home includes a walk to see if the terrapin is basking on the rock by the island. This poem was written after my sister rang me one day to tell me that the terrapin was not there but that she had seen an abandoned doll floating peacefully in the water.
NO TERRAPIN TODAY
Just her in the water.
The sun warming her as she floats.
A fallen leaf, landed beside her,
shines its green to the sky.
Branches and leaves pattern her outline
with their shadows.
You say you want to photograph her,
that you wonder what her eyes are seeing
as she lies unmoving in the water.
I can only think of thick mud
holding on tight to faded crisp packets.
But look, you say, she is smiling.
And she is.
Her long hair floats out like golden pondweed,
and she looks happy the abandoned doll;
eyes wide, eyelashes still curled,
that mouth.
As if she doesn’t even know
she was thrown in,
left behind.
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