For Those Who Bloom In The Dark
This was going to be a post about snow - prompted by a couple of lines from Sylvia Plath that snagged my flighty attention on Instagram. Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person. - Sylvia Plath But it quickly dawned… Continue reading The Crushing Weight Of January
I took up my notebook today and started scribbling some notes for a poem. After a few lines, I was about to give up, thinking 'nothing is going to come from this.' But I kept going - a lot of the time I don't - and here's what became of those notes. p.s. If you… Continue reading It’s January 8th 2026 – A Poem
It is my birthday today. I'm thirty-nine. It's an uncomfortable age, an age I've been feeling embarrassed about turning, which is, I know, utterly ludicrous and tragic. On Facebook, I made it so that only I can see my birthdate. It wasn't because of my age, though, but because of messages that come through from… Continue reading An Uncomfortable Age
Around 10 this morning, I decided to go hiking and photoshooting, so I booked a ticket for a train leaving for 'the hills' at 12:46. I had spent the first half of this week in 'barely functioning' mode after an unusually social Saturday, and I was desperate to restore some 'lust for life' in the… Continue reading The Hills Will Be There Tomorrow
Well hi. It's been a little while. I was going to skulk back in here with a quirky (?) post about self-anthropology, having lifted the idea from the book Tiny Experiments by Anne-Laure Le Cnuff. In an attempt to 'self-renew,' the reader is invited to 'play a game of self-anthropology', which essentially means making 'field… Continue reading The Neurodivergent Creative
For a long time, I wrote a poem every day. It was my way of grounding myself; breathing was easier after writing a poem. When, for whatever reason, a day passes when I haven't written a poem, the distress is palpable; I'm a wolf pacing a boundary fence. No matter what's been going on in… Continue reading Going Home To Poetry
On the 1st of February, I woke up feeling like I was coming down with flu. Frustrated, I took to my bed for the best part of a week. I slept and wrote when I had the energy. In one of my journal entries, I noted: It's been a relief to slow down, to know… Continue reading Burnout
I sent this postcard to my family in England during the summer of 2011 when I was in Iceland for three months as a conservation volunteer. Somehow, it's ended up back with me and lives on the fridge with a Jólakötturinn magnet made by my friend Giorgia of Litla Keramus. On the back, I wrote… Continue reading My Wyrd Life In 100 Objects: 4 – Postcard From Iceland
This was supposed to be an extensive write-up, posted well before Christmas. I wanted to write a merry, celebratory post about some of the most satisfying, illuminating, imaginative seasonal reads, which have made my life (and my winters) better for having been published. But, surprise, surprise, I haven't been doing all that well lately so… Continue reading Some Seasonal Reading
The other day, I spoke about my brain having the audacity to try and stop me from doing things I want to do. One of those things was penning some thoughts about the book Finding Water: The Art of Perseverance by Julia Cameron. I finished it a few weeks ago and was eager to share… Continue reading The Art Of Perseverance
A Wyrd Of Her Own 