I threw out a rope and gathered in the frost, the leaf-mulched paths, sunlight, the bumpy clatter of wood-pigeons overhead, ice shattered by cars over puddles, the sound of a golf ball before it flew through the air, Beechin Wood, Pigeon’s Green, Potash Lane, pot-holes, sudden hollows, a short stink of methane at the back of the quarry, the snuffle of a horse behind a hedge, a duck pond, dogs and their walkers, and all kinds of trees that accompanied my steps, my breath all the way out and home again.
...for good reading & writing, good running days, good food & making good on intentions.
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I imagine the man crunching gears into reverse, side-swiping the bramble hedge then raising a wave of gravel as he hurtles back into so...
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... from the inspiring Angela Hirst at the good soup . I've been following Angela's blog since I first started The Hungry Writer p...
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for Mammy It has never been in your nature to give up, not even at catering college when the head chef put you to peeling and chopping ...