thoughts on a weekend away

Friday evening returning Sunday evening. Stand on the train to Lancaster and on the train back.

In spare moments at mother's house read and make notes.

Saturday. Ninetieth birthday celebration for grandmother. Mother's mother.

Fields of maize across the northwest and north into Scotland. Supermarkets? Animal feed? Biofuel?

Devil's porridge exhibition. The mixture of nitroglycerine and guncotton.

Direct hot sun.

Beech tree rotten right through felled into river. Larger branches removed first.

Moniaive larger than Austwick the village I grew up in. More people live on my street in Manchester.

Sunday. Christening of youngest nephew. He chews the order of service.

Diversion due to accident. First responder with collapsible sign.

Vintage cars between Skipton and Lancaster.

Weekend reminds me why I moved to the city. What I dislike about the countryside. Insular communities. Family committments to people you barely know.

Comments

If those people were not there... you would feel isolated and without a sense of roots.

It's easier to discount them when you have them. You'd miss them and yes, even the obligations.

Those obligations are abundance in boring and sometimes granny smelling disguise.

xo
Skylar Smythe
Anonymous said…
It's ok to say 'no' sometimes too. It's taken me a long time to learn that.

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