Me
Like everyone I’m made of many parts, not all of which sit together comfortably.
When I was a child I remember having a note book which I filled with poems written with an HB pencil.
I’ve been writing since I’ve been remembering. There have been stories, scripts, poems, essays, blogs…..so many of them lost over the years.
I occasionally wonder what I would make of those lost words now as a woman sitting on the doorstep of Cronehood.
I currently find myself living in the centre of a city which never ceases to surprise me as I am bent into shape by the countryside. I share my home with my husband and our youngest daughter, who is grown up, along with two small dogs. My eldest daughter lives nearby and visits from time to time.
Who is behind these pages?
I’m a woman of middling years who has had a significant period of illness which took me away from life for many years. My re-entry has been serenaded by songs of nature and myth.
I live in the centre of Newcastle upon Tyne with my family. My roots are here in the North East of England and I feel them more strongly than I ever have although re-rooting in a city having always lived in the countryside is an unexpected challenge.
I work with silver to make jewellery and it turns out I am besotted with the flames that that requires.
I follow the moon cycles and use cards for divination. Some might say that I’m a witch, they’d probably be right.
What to expect from your visit
This website serves as a repository where I store my words. Maybe somewhere in amongst the jumble there will be the occasional gem found only by the most intrepid explorers.
There is a variety of writing here, old stories and new, and poems that have many moods. Certain threads run through much of what I think and therefore write about, these include Nature, Myth and Story, Illness, Dreams, Divinity, Femininity and more. From time to time I try to organise it, I’m not a natural organiser.
Feel free to wander these electronic pages as you wish, you are most welcome here.
Webs
I write like a bird building a nest
Words chosen, gathered together
To form a sturdy home
For my thoughts
Cosy and safe
If perhaps a little clumsy
Oh but how I envy those who
Write like spiders
Weaving webs
The Poets
Creating glimmering gossamer
Threads as insubstantial as the breeze
Yet strong enough to hold all
Mesmerised, I am lured in
How cumbersome my nests feel
I wish to make webs with my words
