Moments where we see, smell, hear, taste and touch
“I begin to realise what the world is when we take a little time to stop”
Senses by Elizabeth
Whilst sitting in the backyard with a cup of warm coffee in hand contemplating the day ahead.
I begin to notice the smell of the coffee and how clear blue the sky is and I feel the warmth of the sun gently shining through on my face.
Also the sound of the birds in flight approaching the bird feeders in the nearly bare Elderflower tree and I begin to realise what the world is when we take a little time to stop whatever we are doing and listen whilst in our surroundings.
Cullercoats by Mary Pickin
Dreich. Glasses steamed up “I need windscreen wipers”.
Bum resting comfy on layers of picnic blanket.
Bacon stottie soft, chewy.
Coffee in corrugated cup heats fingers.
Both smell of morning happy on tongue.
Small waves tickle the shore.
Beyond the pier it’s choppy with creamed foam.
Two bald men bound up the stairs “You could put that in an HGV…”Six dogs bouncing on the sand.
Huddled owner kicks a ball with hands in pocket.
The sea lowly roaring. Two birds high above – a seagull bullying a heron!
Woman with salmon pink limbs strides to the life boat station. Wild swimmers in mad headgear – pom pom hats, trilby.
A woman bears an orange inflatable float.
A speedboat rushes in the distance, its wake frothy like my soggy tissues I used to wipe the bench in this drizzle.
Reverie from my kitchen window by Hannah Humphries
There has been an unusual intensity to autumn this year, perhaps because we know how difficult the winter will be – the dark nights, the lack of joy at Christmas, the long months from January to spring.
The intensity, or perhaps our sensitivity to it, is particularly apparent when outside, and I have spent many hours working in the garden this year to make the picture from my kitchen window as beautiful as possible.
There has been an almost obsessional need for the window to provide beauty and solace.
The hydrangeas have bloomed; cotoneaster has coloured to red with crimson berries; the blue ceramic pots are placed just as I wish, on either side of the path, with new lavender ready for next season.
In summer, I would brush past the mauve flowers and squeeze a purple bloom to embrace its pungent sweetness. Watching these pots now, the memory of this is very sweet.
The clematis on the back fence is tamed and each time I look from my window I see a fusion of pinky white flowers that will bloom again next Spring.
The leaves of my gorgeous, blowsy oriental poppies are growing , ready to form into huge red flowers in early summer , which close in and out as the sun shines or rain pours. I smile at this, as I would greeting a friend.
Two rhododendrons flank each side of the garden, and flower at the same time as the poppies. On hot summer afternoons, I can sit under the shelter of the wonderful trees which tower over the garden from the field behind.
At this autumn/winter cusp, I look out today on these trees, with their leafless, spidery frame, against the darkening sky, and glimpse the sun setting to the west at the ghastly early time of 4 o’clock.
On these late autumn tea times, I can walk out and search for the Moon, planets and stars; and, as my routine before bed takes me to the front to check all is locked, I search again, and there was the moon, almost full, yesterday evening in all its glory.
When I search in this way, I recall, each evening, holidays in Greece, in happier times, where moonlight often falls on the water, as we walk along the promenade of a small beloved island, one of many we have visited.
Moonlight can soften the light on the harsh mountains and cliffs which surround our resort, and make us gasp at such beauty. Oh, the romance of it all with that ‘stairway to heaven’ shimmering out on the dark water.
Sitting now, watching a Coronovirus press conference, I can only pray that vaccines will come in, in the New Year, and we can lead a more normal life by the Spring.
No more take-away coffee and cake under golf umbrellas, or scones whilst chilled and shivering beneath windy trees.
No more not being able to see the family .
No more dodging round people to social distance when going for a walk.
How wonderful that would be!
A Tier 3 walk by Barbara Douglas
I see a shaft of bright sunshine breaking through the dark clouds
I smell the smoke of coal fires
I hear the chirpy birdsong – what are they so happy about?
I touch the trodden leaves squelching under my feet
I taste the bitter sweetness of these challenging times
Senses of the seasons by B
I like being indoors a lot. I like to sit and snuggle up on my sofa and look out the window and watch the birds, the weather and life go by.
I often wonder what the birds will be thinking! Where will they be going and what will they be doing?
Will they too, be snuggled in a tree, watching life go by and wondering, perhaps about me at the window?
It’s especially nice and cosy being indoors during lockdown watching the rain and the snow, in the autumn and winter because I love the colour of the sky and the different hues, as even though it gets darker, strangely it also gets brighter.
It’s very calming watching the snowflakes gently falling down. It looks lovely when the snow settles on the branches of the trees and the ground, like a giant white blanket. It reminds me of a picture on a christmas card.
I love the crunching sound when walking on the snow, it sounds like walking on crunching leaves.
Although I feel slightly guilty, as what amazes me is that no 2 snowflakes are the same, depending on the ice that forms around each particle of dust inside.
I feel like I’m trampling all over a collective piece of Nature’s very own artwork!
The rain too, has relaxing qualities, the sounds it makes has its own rhythms on the leaves when it hits them, with their fantastic array of colours. I love to watch the rain trickling and dripping, over all of the objects in its path like mini waterfalls and form pools and puddles.
I listen to it beating against the windows. It clears the air and washes away life’s stresses with it’s soothing sound.
Yellow Lines by Trinity Pupil
Yellow Lines on the floor
Hand Sanitiser dripping on my hands
The strong scent of the Hand Sanitiser
The complete silence of the school
Where will I sleep tonight by Christine Logan
I passed an old, worn, soaking wet, dirty sleeping bag on the side of the road, and wanted to cry.
That had been someone’s home.
Where I will sleep tonight
Why did I follow my heart and not my head
Where will I find a bed?
How did I steep so low
Now where will I go
People pass and look away –
Will I survive another day
I want to shout
I did love!
I did have a life
But my voice just fades into the night