Bright Blessings

These have always been known as pop flowers in my house ;) The cottage was isolated, three miles from her nearest neighbour and the thought set Cara’s heart racing. In the moments between darkness and dawn, shadows faded, light grew and ephemeral shapes crept about her bedroom. She knew them for what they were, the night ghosts slipping between worlds, uneasy in even the palest dawn glow, but she was yet pathetically grateful for the armful of dog with her in the middle of the bed.  Snaps grumbled low in his chest, straining a little at her hold on his collar. Both of them heard the movement again; a scraping and rustling from somewhere beyond the bedroom door. It was followed by a squeak, a muffled thud and the faint sound of speech. Cara held tight to Snaps, barely managing to silence his incipient barking with a hand around his muzzle. ‘Not now, Snaps, please. I know you are brave, and I know you want to see them off, but what if they are armed.’ Snaps’ liqui...

Cara shifted position, easing out her back, a little envious of Snaps who dozed happily in the shade of an overgrown pergola. Her spine spoke in sharp cracks, but she had promised herself she would finish cutting back the bramble patch before sunset. A glance at the sky revealed a rapidly sinking sun and the first blush of violet. Cara set to with a will. Five minutes, a pile of tangled, thorny debris and several new battle scars later, she sat back on her heels and stared at the odd little tableau her efforts had revealed. At the centre of the patch a smooth triangle of stone had been set up. Next to it, a toy-sized pickaxe sat buried in the earth. To Cara it looked uncomfortably like a memorial. Scratched into the stone were the words ‘Olla’s Gold’. The entire area was surrounded by orange flowers with vivid yellow centres. “What is this, Grace?”  She’d got into the habit of chatting to her late aunt, surprised by how often an answer to her question slipped a...

I saw these on a walk. I have no idea why they look this way but they inspired a new story from Cara and Snaps. Marvellous Moments 2 - Leaf “C’mon Snaps. The day’s too good to waste amongst boxes and paint fumes.” Cara shrugged out of her shirt, already decorated with enough splashes to satisfy Jackson Pollock, took a moment to admire the calming green on the fireplace wall then headed out the back door, Snaps alternately running rings around her feet, or pelting off with gleeful barks. She took note of the plants whilst heading toward the little gate which gave onto the woodland beyond her boundary fence. Aunt Grace had been an enthusiastic, if somewhat erratic, gardener, but most of the plants had been ‘set free’; Grace had been keen on the idea of one man’s weed being another man’s prized bloom. The garden sang with colour, Cara not even sure what half the riotous profusion was. ‘With all due respect to you, Aunt Grace’, Cara mused, ‘I may have to prune if I want...

A story which occurred to me when I picked up this feather whilst out walking. Feeling the wind push against it, trying to lift it, was a marvellous moment for me :) Marvellous Moments #1 - Feather Cara stooped, grabbed up the feather lying on the tow path and swiftly held it aloft to prevent Snaps liberating it. At six months, her retriever was living up to his name, retrieving everything and snapping it up to be presented at Cara’s feet with a goofy, tongue-lolling grin. She hurled one of his battered tennis balls into the undergrowth and he was off. The feather, twirling in her fingers, probably belonged to one of the rooks who held chaotic court in a stand of nest-laden oaks on her left. She wasn’t clued up enough to know for sure, but the black had a shimmering hint of blue down one side, dancing in the dappled sunlight. A stray breeze caught the feather when held up to the light and she felt the ghostly tug as it tried to break free. Cara tucked it behind her...