My ABC Of Important Things

Wholly inspired by Susannah Conway’s post of the same title last week, here’s my version:

A is for Animals.  Joss the dog and Nettle the cat.  They’ve travelled to America and back with me. They’re the best companions I could ever wish for.  I love them with a passion.

B is for Books.  Life-long love affair.  And as for bookshops….

C is for Colour.  It rocks my world.

D is for Dixon Hill.  The house that turned into a blog that turned into a business.

E is for E-courses.  Love doing them.  Love creating them.  Very proud of Falling Into Place.  Next one’s in the pipeline.

F is for Fruit, Films, Flip-flops, Family, Friends. So many good and important things begin with F.

G is for Gratitude.  Powerful, transformative stuff.  (Also for Glasses.  Sad to say, but these days I can’t read a thing without them.  Which makes them about the most important thing I own.  Sigh!)

H is for Health.  Having lost so many years of my life to illness, this is something I never take for granted.

I is for Instagram.  My social media comfort zone.  The single biggest reason I now feel qualified to call myself a photographer.

J is for Jumping Up and Down.  Any exercise I do has to be fun and non-competitive.  Bouncing on my rebounder puts a big smile on my face.  As does hula-ing in my hoop.

K is for Kate.  Best mate and companion for the journey.  I waited many years for a friend like Kate.  Definitely worth the wait.

L is for Lists.  Where would I be without them?!

M is for the Moors.  They’re my daily fix of beauty; my space to think; the place I get to spend time with my dog; the reason I’m primarily a landscape photographer; the heart of my blog.  Oh, and an excuse to wear my wellies every day.

N is for Network.  The inspiration and encouragement that abound amongst the online creative community are truly amazing.  And act as rocket fuel.

O is for Overcoming.  Of all the things of which I’m proud, I’m most proud of overcoming all the bad stuff life‘s thrown my way.  There’s been a fair bit of it.  But I’m still here.  And I’m still smiling.

P is for Piano.  Mine’s currently in storage.  Lost without it.  Can’t wait to have it back.

Q is for Quiet.  I’m a country girl.  I’m a homebird.  I spend lots of time alone.  And I like it quiet, please.

R is for Radio.  Except, that is, when I want the radio on.  Classic FM.  Radio 4. My life is richer for you both.

S is for Support.  From my husband.  My parents. My friends.  None of us succeeds alone in this world.  Massively grateful to all of the above.  Whom I love dearly.

T is for Technology queen!  Who’d have thought it?  I LOVE my laptop, iPad, iPhone.  And the worlds and opportunities they open up.  So happy to be of the generation that’s wowed by this stuff.  (In the past folk didn’t have it; in the future they’ll take it for granted.)

U is for Upside.  There’s always one.  Important to find it.

V is for Vitamix.  Kitchen stalwart.  Source of daily smoothies and juices.

W is for Work.  I love working.  If writing and taking pictures constitute work.  Which apparently they do.

X is for eXcellence.  I strive for it always.

Y is for Yorkshire.  The county I’ve called home for the greater part of my life.

Z is for that particular shade of Zesty, Zingy lime green you’ll find on my blog.  And my handbag.  And my purse.  And half my wardrobe.  And with which I’m slightly obsessed.

The Runners

The moors are usually the preserve of grouse and sheep; of dogs and the folk who walk them; of hikers and the occasional horse-rider.

But, once in a while, the fell runners descend.  Hoards of them.

These two men were up very early, marking out the route with flags and scattering grit on the most dangerously icy slopes.

Before the race began.

How To Not Walk The Dog

The weather, of late, has been all kinds of vile.  Which has caused much muttering and moaning amongst the local dog-walkers.  But there’s one man who has this whole walking-the-dogs-in-revolting-weather thing sussed.  And how!

The man in question has a rather fancy car.  And one of the fanciest features of this fancy car is that the boot (trunk) can be both opened and shut from the driver’s seat.  This means the man is able to drive onto the edge of the moor and, with the flick of a switch, open the tailgate, thus allowing his three big, boisterous dogs to leap out.  Another flick and the boot shuts again….at which point the man proceeds to drive up the track - dogs tearing along behind - until he reaches the patch of waste ground on top of the moor that constitutes a car park.

Once there, he hunkers down in the cosy warmth of the car, no doubt listening to the radio or reading the newspaper.  There’s probably a cup of coffee involved.  Meanwhile, the dogs hare about wildly, burning off their high-octane doggy energy, heedless of the gales, hail, rain, mud or ice (frequently all of the above).

When the man deems the dogs to have had enough exercise, he starts the engine once more and drives back down the track, dogs careering alongside.  Approaching the road, he pauses the car, hits the fancy switch again and the animals pile inside.  One final flick closes the boot….and off he goes.  Dogs walked.  Man snug and dry.  Because man has never left car (or even wound down the window so far as I can tell).

I like to think he drives home to a garage (with an automatic door, of course) attached to his house….meaning he never actually has to set foot outside throughout the whole performance.  Heck, he probably still has his slippers on!

There’s more than one envious dog-walker who’s noted the make of this fancy car and started saving pennies….

Were We Missed?

This weekend, Joss and I took a walk along the side of the reservoir beside my studio.  For various reasons, it’s been several weeks since we walked here.  Prior to that it was a more or less daily occurrence.

As I stroll and Joss sniffs about, I realise how much I’ve missed our visits.  My regular lookout to see which sweet spot the ducks have chosen for their afternoon rest.  My automatic glance at the water to gauge how calm or choppy it is.  The opportunity to watch the sun (with a bit of luck) sink behind the hills above us.

Suddenly, a line from The Railway Children – the film I watched last week – floats back to me.  ‘I wonder if the railway misses us?’ muses Phyllis, after the children have been absent from it for a while.

And I wonder whether the reservoir has missed Joss and me.  And, now, is happy to see us again.

Time To Be Still

The first few days of a new year are some of my favourites.  The excitement of the blank slate and all that.  A time for setting new intentions, dusting off old ones, preparing to step mindfully into an unknown future with optimism.

Fresh starts always feel good, but it’s more than that.  Evaluation is, I increasingly find, oh-so-important.  Taking time to take stock actually propels you forward far faster and to far greater effect than just charging on regardless.  Listening is the pre-requisite to speaking.  Being still essential before taking action.  And this is the time of year to indulge that stillness on a grand scale….to cosy up and let things mull, to meditate softly before the year unfolds.

Whether you make resolutions, set intentions, create goals or choose a word or phrase as your guiding star….revel in some serious still time this month.  Let the plans and the lists arise from a deep place within you.  I’m convinced your magic will shine all the more brightly in the year ahead.