As a child I looked forward to being a writer ‘when I grew up’. However, most of the writing for pleasure had to wait until my husband and I retired to a small holding next to The Glen Nature Reserve near Gloucester, in 1997. Here I began to write essays and some poems related to our life in a beautiful, peaceful part of the world. I have now gathered all these pieces together into one document, Clon Garriff Chronicles.
Joining the Gloucester River Writers in 2014 gave me my first opportunity to share work with a group who have an expertise in writing, and who are brave enough and supportive enough to criticise and encourage each other. They have taught me a great deal. |
Gloucester Greening Last night I heard the rain. It pattered gently on the roof. The green frog in the down-pipe croaked a welcome. Today the rain still falls and water streaks the softening earth. Rosellas spread their wings to catch a shower. Already I can see grass pushing up through muddy pools and leafy shoots in ragged trees unfolding. January 17, 2020 Fire I watch thick plumes choke the blue above. Smoke, not cloud. Dull rose reflection. Fire, not sun. Beyond that hill cindered forest, a furnace, still. 13th November 2019 Morning Ritual The river sings a welcoming when I go stepping down the steep and fern-held bank, where bandicoots and wallabies have beaten out my track. The branches lend a hand to me as I go stepping down, they keep me steady, catch my fall and gently brush me round. The pools of dew all wink at me from many a leaf and rock; the warbler trills his song for me the whip bird adds his crack. There’s dappled light and pregnant air as I go stepping down, I wonder when I wander there, is this a Sacred Ground? 8/05/2017 **** Dog Rescue I am facing a barrier, palings loosened here and there. If only I can find those, not try to force the others, ease my hand gently through, I might reach you. 2/12/2014 |