away

street celebrations

What a day!

The ceremony of a Royal Wedding, all glorious mad swirling colour scythed deep with red cut military precision.  The flash and polish of a hundred out-riders, metalled helmets glinting in the sun.  And at the centre a young man standing proud beside his bride.

The kiss ... planted.

The celebrations continued in our street, the two ends blocked and traffic-less.  We ate, we drank, we talked ... we chased the length of the road with eggs and spoons, blowing blue-sky bubbles in thick streams of laughter.  And the band played on.

street life

beached

a year passing ...

If I hold this year up to you, I wonder what you may hear?  Perhaps the sound of sand slipping softly through my fingers, the low caress of streaming time.  Or maybe, the mechanical tick of some strange, unwinding clock, spiralling out between us into the blackness beyond.  A spring loosed.

It's exactly six months to the day our eldest returned home with her two small sons in tow.  We had less than an hour and a half to prepare, and yet this strange streaming, unleashed sand spiral has brought so much.  The sound of tears, the sound of joy, the sound of a family at work.

God has been here too.  Healing, saving.

In just two days time our little family unit departs for a new home but fifteen minutes from here.  Let me hold the future to your ear, and ask what noise it makes.

circling chill

Dancing naked in the snow, the crisping icy bites! So good to be alive - we can fight back the circling chill here if we just stand our ground.

Look to the trees in the distance and wolves pad softly in the flickering lace-curtained light. Treading down the furrows.