Lynne Rees

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Poem: January

on December 29, 2019

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new year poem

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Poem ~ Never

Never For Mam, 1st December 1932 ~ 25th March 2021 Grief keeps changing its shape – a weight like a kilo bag of sugar compressing my lungs, sometimes a water smoothed stone that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. Yesterday the heaviest of winter coats that refused to keep out the chill. Today, I woke and heard birdsong through the early morning mist and remembered the last words you wrote the month before you died – It’s good to be positive and looking ahead, Lynne . So here I am running the lanes looking for all the things I would have shared with you: the planting of young laurels along the hedgerow on St Vincent’s Lane, the way the moss has grown sparsely on one side of the stone bridge but thickly on the other, and how someone has laid a plank across the stream to cross from bank to bank. I think I understand now that grief remains with us. And I never had to say, Don’t go, please stay, because you never left me. Mam, the white wood anemones are like a carp

I won a Stylish Blogger Award...

... from the inspiring Angela Hirst at the good soup . I've been following Angela's blog since I first started The Hungry Writer project in October 2010. She's a cook, writer, researcher and teacher who completed her PhD, Eating the Other, Levinas's Ethical Encounter , in 2005. She says this about herself : I love to write. It feels like dragging myself out of bed from a very very deep sleep each time I do it, but once I start, I don’t want to stop. I love it when people cut through the romantic illusions of what makes a writer and tell it as it is. And I love writers who love to cook and eat! Because blogging is all about learning and sharing The Stylish Blogger Award requires me to pass on the award to 15 other blogs I admire (and because, as Angela says, my blog stands at the edge of an almost dimensionless sea of food blogs there will be a few blogs that are rather more loosely linked to food) and to share 7 things about myself. So: I hated to eat when I

Lessons: Mam's Vegetable Soup

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 onions every day for weeks in a row. You were there to learn and you would take something from every task, every day in that professional kitchen; you would show yourself determined and willing, unable to be beaten. At home you astonished us, unwrapping the knives you kept sheathed in a drawer, that we were forbidden to touch, and transforming a topside of beef into ‘Olives’, a shoulder of lamb into Navarin . You were suddenly more than the wife and mother we knew: a woman carrying the noises and scents of other countries into our south Wales home, your fingers scented with garlic; al dente you said as if the words had always belonged to you. And here I am, forty years later, astonished again by this bowl of soup you carry into the conservatory and place before me in a patch of sunlight: the simplicity of parsnip, onion, carrot, potato, simm

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