Daybreak

View of the back mountain at 6 am. The sky was pinker than that, but hey, it's close enough for pretty

7 am

This was the sight greeting me as I took the cold ash out this morning. There was no traffic, just a robin saying good morning and the moon sailing over the mountain. More beautiful than I can say.

Fundraising in the Rain

Well, I am not joking, it is hammering down outside and what do the Brits do when it's raining? They carry on regardless or else they would never get anything done. And so it means that in this admittedly foul weather I am taking our entire family out to Glynneath Lake to do a few laps on a jetski to raise funds for McMillan Cancer. Yes, I know, book me a place in the nut house later and while I'm there V and the kids can clock into the sanitorium.

I am taking the camera, just to record our lunacy for posterity. Look, it is character building stuff, the kids will thank me for it later.
Wellies on everyone? Then all together...We're jetskiing in the rain, just jetskiing in the rain, what a glorious feeling...


Update: 8 pm
It was indeed a glorious feeling. I didn't think I would have a go but as soon as I saw how fast Ian the Nutter sped across the lake with Dan, I knew I would be an idiot if I let an opportunity like this pass me by. It was a blast. Rose really enjoyed herself and even V, who gets nervous if anyone other than himself is in control of a vehicle in which he is travelling, even he had a great time.
So thanks Ian, Steve, Gaynor and crew. We had a great time, despite the rain!

Mist

It has been raining hard all night and the valley is strung with clouds. This is an old picture but I thought it suitable to decorate a poem I wrote a little while ago and did not get round to posting

Mist Rising
Clouds touch the earth
Singing songs of beauty
Brushing all with mystery,
Roving where they will.

The river moves on,
But the valley stretches
and purrs beneath their touch.
Clouds whisper a sirens song

Of high far reaches of space,
crystalline air, graceful
movement, silver light,
the joy of flight.

Clouds roll their breath
over the mountains shoulder.
Brush round her back,
soft fingers linger.

And then the sky
pulls them home,
willing unwilling,
they must go

And earth is left alone.