Post 1517. Thursday April 27
Tales of everyday life in the coastal village of Amble Bay
I love it here. It’s so tranquil. Above, swaying branches; their delicate pale green leaves reaching for wispy white clouds as they glide ‘cross a sky of springtide blue. Blimey, listen to me getting all poetic! Careful you don’t trip up. Whoops, too late.
See that heart carved in a tree trunk? I did that when I was twelve. The initial K is for me of course and S for...please don’t laugh...Celine. How was I to know Celine started with a C? You don’t pronounce it like Christine or custard do you? Arthur built us a treehouse up there. It fell down one afternoon. Unfortunately, I was in it at the time!
The lady sitting beneath the ash tree reading is Molly. The kids think she’s a witch with a book of spells. It's actually the diary she started writing the day she got married. Her beloved husband Walter passed away ten years ago and she’s worn black from that day to this. He tended the wood, clipping branches, nurturing new shoots and caring for the creatures of the undergrowth. They say he talked to rabbits.
Look at the bluebells reflecting in the lake. I’m going to sit for a while. You’re welcome to sit with me if you wish.
You can click on my photo to make it larger
Tomorrow I’ll be telling you about Mark Xavier aka X-Boxer!
