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Soil and surf

Our allotment is bathed in sunshine, and the girls spend the afternoon playing explorers and locking each other in the shed. The sky is a...

Gossamer Days

A wall of fog hangs on the hill between the town and the sea. A dirty smudge drifting along the coastline like steam from a train,...

The Meeting

Our wings are clipped. Every hedge and postage-stamp front garden is an opportunity to enter another world. Looking out of my bedroom...

Dark Light

I have a basket of daffodils on my windowsill, planted for me by a friend. They grow noticeably every day, so that the tallest one now...

Musings on light

In June, when the sun is high, the morning light glares through the gilded fabric of my blind before the alarm rings. I’m ashamed to say...

Sugar Sands

A bonfire is burning. Flecks of ash are floating on the breeze like pages torn from a book. When we lived in Devon, my dad used to build...

Denwick Woods

The fields fall away in ripples down the valley, where black-headed gulls hover above the waterlogged grass. The rain has been intense in...