Memories of Mothering | Memories of Mothering
May.04.2013
We were pilgrims throughout that Summer drought, a mother and her bedraggled brood;
three sandaled Hansels in a broken line of tattered dungarees.
Down the black sticky road we went and through a stile, smooth as alabaster
to cross the trodden grass that cried out
for rain, until we came
to the...
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Sep.08.2010
The cows in the meadow-cum-bogland behind the house broke loose and ran in a chaotic fashion about the road down aways from our blue gates. I watched them from the kitchen window, marvelled at the beastly power on tarmac and at the luck that no cars passed by.
It seems the best way to guide wild...
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