Each day brings an energy ,a pulse as it were to stamp its authority on each period.As the sun rose here in the Dorset town where I live,the winds started to blow,to do their stuff,to capture my sleepy attention,to wake me up from my slumber.
It’s almost a mini gale force out there this morning,quite a change for an August day,and I wonder just how the young people will manage to get out there and enjoy themselves.Its a truth,I suppose,that the elements have always played a huge part in life as I know it.As a child,the Cornish winds,buffeting me as I waited to walk to school along the Goss Moor,to my primary school,now a converted industrial unit.My mother insisting that I held unto my sisters hand ,even though I was 8 of 9 kind of fuelled my need toe like every other boy.However,I realised that I wasn’t,that I loved classical music even then at that tender age.Also,I liked the stories that were read to me.
One of my Pils told me that she loved a story that her mum read to her this week,and in a memory recall,I was taken back to my English teacher who read stories to our class,and it was oh so comforting.It was a cycle that I broke when I had children ,to read to them each night just like my sister read to me until she got ill.
These memories,just like the weather,signify to me that you have to grasp things when they are there ,because you never know when they might be taken away from you.
So,today,I’m embracing the lofty Dorset wind,holding the hands of my life’s memories,using those experiences,being grateful for everything that I now have,knowing that life is good.
As I have a day with my son,home from his job in Europe,I have much things to discuss ,much happy times to remember.He sings in the house you know,he’s good,very good,and that brings life to the home,vibrancy,and joy.
To conclude,this is me,right off the bat,but I wanted to share my muse now here from Dorset.