Tuesday, 15 September 2026

The Green Man

 


 GREEN MAN IN THE GARDEN
By Charles Causley 

Green man in the garden
Staring from the tree,
Why do you look so long and hard
Through the pane at me?

Your eyes are dark as holly,
Of sycamore your horns,
Your bones are made of elder-branch,
Your teeth are made of thorns.

Your hat is made of ivy-leaf,
Of bark your dancing shoes,
And evergreen and green and green
Your jacket and shirt and trews.

“Leave your house and leave your land
And throw away the key,
And never look behind,” he creaked,
“And come and live with me.”

I bolted up the window,
I bolted up the door,
I drew the blind that I should find
The green man never more.

But when I softly turned the stair
As I went up to bed,
I saw the green man standing there.
“Sleep well, my friend,” he said

There's a Green Man in our village. He isn't always easy to spot. Sometimes he hides behind his long hair and whiskers, but once in a while he reappears clean-shaven and with a smart new hair cut. 
 
He sits at the bottom of the hill, a welcoming sight for anyone approaching the village. We're lucky to have him as Norwood Green is surrounded by woods and traditionally the Green Man is thought to be 'the keeper of the forest and the woods.'
 
Being evergreen, he's still got plenty of leaves during December when he grows a bushy, white beard and becomes Father Christmas. Then, after the long winter, he will appear with new, lush vegetation to herald the coming of Spring. 
 
As in the poem above, it seems that the Green Man keeps his beady eye on you. If you look closely up at the sycamore tree at the top of the hill in our village, opposite the old church, you might spot him again, looking down, keeping watch.  
  

Click here to find out more about the Green Man. 

Writing prompts:

  • Read the poem again. What do you make of the Green Man? Friend of foe? Write about it.
  • Is there something welcoming in the area where you live? Write about it in any way you like. 
  • Write about a time when someone invited you (in reality or in your imagination) to "Leave your house ... come and live with me"? 
Please share your writing or leave a comment on the blog. Thanks.  


Wednesday, 9 September 2026

The Magic of Fossils


Sir David Attenborough: "Kids like their fossils. I've taken my godson fossil-hunting and there's nothing more magical than finding a shiny shell and knowing you're the first person to have seen it for 150 million years."

Tracy Chevalier
: "That's how fossil hunting is: It takes over, like a hunger, and nothing else matters but what you find. And even when you find it, you still start looking again the next minute, because there might be something even better waiting."

Leonardo da Vinci:"Why are the bones of great fishes, and oysters and corals and various other shells and sea-snails, found on the high tops of mountains that border the sea, in the same way in which they are found in the depths of the sea?"

Above is one of the many fossils I found recently among the limestone rocks on the beach between Bamburgh and Seahouses in Northumberland. I'm not exactly sure what this is - maybe a crinoid or brachiopod - but  it's probably between 330 to 350 million years old, at a time when Northumberland sat near the equator under a warm, shallow tropical sea. I find that a mind-blowing fact. Click here find our more about fossil hunting in Northumberland. Click here to find out about the largest-ever fossil of a giant millipede found on nearby Howick Beach.

Writing prompts:

  •  As Tracy Chevalier says, searching for fossils can take you over and become an obsession. Write about something that you became obsessed with at some point in your life.  How did it affect you and those around you?
  •  What is the most interesting thing you have found on a beach? Write about it?
  • If you became a fossil who would you like to find you and where? 

Wednesday, 2 September 2026

On the Death of a Cat

 

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." by Kahlil Gibran

Yesterday we said goodbye to one of our two beloved cats. Brio was certainly vivacious, full of energy and spirit, as her name implied. A bantam weight, she was nevertheless feisty, independent and not to be messed with. 

She was our friend and companion for almost 19 years and we acutely miss her presence in our house and in our lives. So does her sister, Poco, who is rather confused and disorientated at her sudden loss. Cats grieve too I think.  

Click here   for a touching poem about the death of a cat.

Writing prompts:

  •   Write about a pet that you have loved and lost.  

Thursday, 30 July 2026

Drought

 

https://unsplash.com/@pawel_czerwinski

 When it’s dry here,
the clay in the soil shrinks,
its particles pulling
more tightly together
until deep cracks form in the earth,
a force so powerful
it can damage foundations.
This makes me wonder
about how we, too,
storied to have come from clay,
can crack in times of drought.
I have felt it, drought of love,
drought of touch, drought of death,
drought of compassion and justice.
And I have known, too, the miracle
of how when the drought is over,
the clay of my soul expands again,
absorbing what it most needs.
Is it strange how much comfort
I take in knowing it’s natural,
that cracking is what we do,
it’s part of the cycle.
Of course, the cracking.
And of course, the healing.
I am awed by its force
and how little it takes,
even a small bit of rain,
for deep healing to begin.

by Rosemary Wahtola Trommer

Click here for more poems. 

We've had no rain for weeks - at least nothing to write home about. Reservoirs and rivers are running low, farmers are having to harvest crops early, wildfire risk is increasing, and millions of people are living under restrictions on water use. Yorkshire hasn't yet officially been declared an area of drought, but surely that's coming, along with a hosepipe ban. I will continue to water my pots of Cosmos, until I'm told not to. 

Click here to find out about the drought declared in half of England. 

It's all relative of course. We are not experiencing the same devastation from wildfires as other parts of Europe. The fire near Madrid, in Spain, would span the entirety of Greater London, approximately the diameter of the M25. Click here to find out more. 

Writing prompts:

  • Read the poem above. Do you agree that we too can 'crack in times of drought'? Set a timer and write about a time when you have 'cracked'. What kind of drought have you felt?
  • I love the positivity and reassurance the poet gives that, like the dried earth soaking up the rain, 'the soul expands again, absorbing what it most needs.' Write about a time when you have begun to heal, even in a small way. 
  • Is it comforting to know that it's natural to 'crack' and that it's part of a cycle that others feel too? Write in response to this question. 
  • For you, what is the 'small bit of rain' that enables you to start healing? Write about this in any way you like.
Please click on 'No Comments' to leave me some feedback, or share you writing. You could 'Follow' my blog too. Thanks.

 


Monday, 6 July 2026

Look To This Day

 

https://unsplash.com/@brett_jordan

Look to this day,
for it is life, 
the very life of life.
In its brief course lie all
the realities and truths of existence:
the joy of growth,
the splendour of action,
the glory of power.
For yesterday is but a memory,
and tomorrow is only a vision.
But today, well lived, 
makes every yesterday
a memory of happiness,
and every tomorrow 
a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day.

Translated from the Sanscrit writings of Kalidasa (active late 4th-early 5th century) - India’s master poet and dramatist. 
 
This poem was given to me by a friend long ago, at a difficult time in my life. It was years before I would discover the benefits of mindfulness meditation and of trying to live a mindful life, day to day, but it nevertheless rang true. I was dwelling on past mistakes and difficulties and fearing what the future may hold. It was excellent advice, from someone who knew me well, and wanted me to live 'today' well and mindfully. 
 
"The only time you ever have in which to learn anything or see anything or feel anything, or express any feeling or emotion, or respond to an event, or grow, or heal, is this moment, because this is the only moment any of us ever gets. You're only here now; you're only alive in this moment." (Jon Kabat Zin)
 
Click here for a link to a three-minute breathing space mediation. 
 
Writing prompts:
  • Have you lived today well? Write about your day. Tomorrow, when you look back, will today be a happy memory?  
  • Do you agree that there is really only today, this moment? What could you do to try to live each day more mindfully? 


Monday, 22 June 2026

Happiness

 

"We are all born happy. Life gets us dirty along the way, but we can clean it up. Happiness is not exuberant or noisy, like pleasure or joy; it's silent, tranquil, and gentle; it's a feeling of satisfaction inside that begins with self-love. You need to love yourself as I do, as all those who know you do ...." 

(Isabel Allende, 'The Japanese Lover'))

Writing prompts:

  • Set a timer for six minutes and write about how life has 'got you dirty' along the way. 
  • Then write about any ways you have tried to 'clean it up' to try to reach a state of happiness again.
  • Make three lists headed 'Happiness', 'Pleasure' and 'Joy' then write down what you think are the particular qualities of each. 
  • Write about a time when you, or someone else, has been 'silent, tranquil and gentle.' 
  • Focus on a moment when you have felt inner satisfaction. Do you agree with the writer that such a feeling begins with self love? 
  • Write about what you could do to love yourself more.

You can find other prompts on this blog on the topic of 'happiness'. Just type the word in 'Search This Blog.'

  

Sunday, 7 June 2026

Sisters

 

 

Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other.” ― Carol Saline

Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer.
― Louise Glück, Descending Figure 

You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you...”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones 

For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands

― Christina Rossetti, Goblin Market and Other Poems 

"You know full well as I do the value of sisters' affections: There is nothing like it in this world." – Charlotte Brontë, The Professor

"Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister?" – Alice Walker

"But the love of sisters needs no words. It does not depend on memories, or mementos, or proof. It runs as deep as a heartbeat. It is as ever-present as a pulse." – Lisa Wingate, Before We Were Yours

 “Sisters are different flowers from the same garden.” —Unknown
 
 ”Sisters are a shield against life’s cruel adversity.” ―Nancy Mitford

My big sister celebrated her 75th birthday this week. She is the only person who has been a constant in my life for 70 years and that feels like something very special. It does not seem two minutes since we were children building dens in our back yard with our mum's wooden clothes horse and some old sheets. Where does the time go? Our hairstyles don't seem to have changed much over the years (!) and neither has our love for each other. 

Writing prompts:

  • Write about your sister if you have one. If not, imagine what it would be like to have one. 
  • How does having (or not having) a sibling affect your life? 
  • Describe something that has been a constant for all, or most of your life. 
  • Choose one of the quotes above and use it as a prompt for your writing.

  

Thursday, 14 May 2026

About the Girls

 Being Sixteen 

It's
Never been easy
Sixteening.
Reading Shakespeare,
Searching for meaning; 
Playing different roles
For everyone you've met
Wanting all the applause
You can get.

Feeling guilty
For deeds not done:
Trying to connect
With anyone:
Searching for words
With crystal clear meaning:
Never been easy
Sixteening.

A head that's full
Of new dreams each week,
Like treetops that trap
Morning mist off a creek:
Pushing out feelers
And pulling them in:
Trying to be yourself
While still fitting in:
Standing tall
When your heart's bleeding:
Never been easy
Sixteening

(Source:http://www.unsolvedmysteries.com/usm376822.html via tictactoe1.blogspot)

I recently enjoyed listening to a series of daily, 15-minute programmes on BBC Radio 4 called 'About the Girls'. You can click here to listen. Teenage girls from all over the country talked about becoming young women, life online, education, friendship and sex and consent. The latter was particularly eye-opening and made me reflect on just how much things have changed from when I was a teenager. I felt quite dismayed at the pressures girls now find themselves confronting. I suppose every generation thinks that, but despite all the teenage angst I certainly experienced, I feel lucky that I never had to encounter the curse of social media at that age. 

Our phone was a big, heavy, red, plastic thing that sat at the bottom of the stairs in a cold hall. If I wanted to have a private (or long) conversation I had to wait until my parents were not around. Even then, my dad used to scrutinise every paper telephone bill to see exactly which numbers had been dialled and for how long. 

Away from home, calls to boyfriends were made from telephone boxes that smelt of pee and stale cigarette smoke. There was, of course, no texting, and any written message was sent on a postcard or in a letter. 

'Selfies' were unheard of and indeed photos had to be snapped with cameras that had films, which were then developed and printed at the chemist, or taken in photo booths as the one above. I look at that picture now, taken on a school trip to London and at a service station half way up the M1, and marvel at how carefree we all seem and how individual we were. If I could give advice to my teenage self now at the age of 70, with the benefit of hindsight, what would I say I wonder?  

This is what former First Lady Michelle Obama would have said:

"If I could give my younger self just one piece of advice, it would be this: Stop being so afraid! That’s really what strikes me when I look back – the sheer amount of time I spent tangled up in fears and doubts that were entirely of my own creation. I was afraid of not knowing the answer in class and looking stupid, or worried about what some boy thought of me, or wondering whether the other girls liked my clothes or my hair, or angsting about some offhand comment someone made to me in the lunchroom."

Click here  to find out about 'Dear Me: A Letter to My Sixteen-Year-Old Self' - a book of letters written by various celebrities. 

Writing prompts:

  •  Write a letter to your sixteen-year-old self. 
  •  Make a list of all the fears, doubts and anxieties you had at 16. Then make a list of those you think current 16-year-olds have. How do the lists compare?
  • Write about how you "tried (or try) to be yourself while still fitting in." 



 


 

 

 

Tuesday, 21 April 2026

Loveliest of Trees

 


Loveliest of Trees
A. E. Housman - 1859-1936

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Cherry blossom is one of the joys of Spring and this year it seems to be more beautiful than ever. I took the picture above on a recent visit to Bolling Hall where they are having a cherry blossom festival this Sunday (April 26). Click here to fund out more.

Japan is famous for its cherry blossoms, or Sakura. "They are said to be like clouds as they bloom all at once and hang above the trees as if to shroud them in mist. Then – just like clouds – they suddenly disappear. Through this, they have come to symbolize ephemerality or transient nature of life. " Click here to find out more about Sakura.

I've reached my 'three score years and ten' so I'm taking heed of Housman's reminder in his poem that time is limited. He loves looking at the trees, but life, like the blossom, is fleeting, so we need to spend time doing the things we really love, and not waste it on those that do not please us. 

Writing prompts:

  • What is your favourite tree? Write about it and why you like it. 
  • What do you need to spend more time doing before it is too late? Is it, like the poet, looking at cherry blossom, or perhaps climbing mountains, pottering in your garden or cuddling your grandchildren. Make a list, or write about one particular thing that pleases you.


Saturday, 21 March 2026

The Beautiful Ride

 


The Beautiful Ride


We’re two old gits

who get our kicks

from riding on our tandem.


Up Godley Cut

and on Rookes Lane

the slopes I just can’t stand ‘em.


But when we free wheel

down the hill, good Lord!

It gives me such a thrill.


We bowl along,

with hearts a-racing.

Wind on our faces, cold and bracing.


There’s nothing else

I’d rather do

than ride our bicycle for two.


  
"Let's do a tandem challenge!" I suggested enthusiastically last November when I had my 70th birthday. "We could do 70 rides at 70 and raise money for Alzheimer's Research." It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now my arthritic knees are beginning to ask why they are being put through such pain on a regular basis. 

Nevertheless, undaunted, we have so far completed 22 rides, cycled more than 600 miles and raised more than £600. We have only 48 rides left to do before the end of November (!) and we are slowly reaching our target of 2,000 miles and £1,000.  

This week we will be riding our tandem around Northumberland, where the hills are not as steep as West Yorkshire. Let's hope the wind is behind us on our travels.

If you can donate to this worthy charity, even a small amount, we would be very grateful. Here's the link to my JustGiving page. 

https://www.justgiving.com/page/judith-boardman-2?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL

 


Wednesday, 11 March 2026

Try Loving Kindness

 

 

https://unsplash.com/@priscilladupreez

   Love And Kindness

In realms where love and kindness bloom,
A tapestry of joy in every room.
Let my words paint a portrait fair,
Of love's embrace and tender care.

Love, a beacon that shines so bright,
Guiding us through the darkest night.
Its essence pure, a gentle stream,
Awakening souls from a dormant dream.

Kindness, a melody softly sung,
A symphony of compassion, every tongue.
It knows no bounds, no depth too deep,
Healing wounds that make hearts weep.

Love and kindness dance hand in hand,
Creating harmony across the land.
They whisper secrets to the breeze,
Planting seeds of hope amidst life's seas.

Love blossoms in the simplest act,
A smile, a touch, a selfless pact.
It nurtures hearts with warmth and grace,
Creating a sanctuary in any space.

Kindness ripples through the hours,
A language spoken with gentle powers.
It lifts the fallen, mends the broken,
Leaving traces of joy unspoken.

Let love's embrace be our guide,
Kindness as our constant stride.
Together, we'll weave a world anew,
A symphony of love in all we do.

For love and kindness, hand in hand,
Can heal the wounds of any land.
In this tapestry we'll eternally weave,
A testament to the love we believe.


James McLain 

There seem to be a lot of reasons this week to remind myself, and others, of the need for loving kindness and this poem, although simple, has a powerful message for anyone suffering and involved in conflict.

A place to start might be to practise the 'Loving Kindness' mindfulness meditation  which focuses on developing feelings of goodwill, kindness, and warmth towards ourselves and others.

Click here and here to find two versions of the practice. Click here to discover 18 science-backed reasons to try this meditation. 

Writing prompts:

  •   Do you agree with the poet that loving kindness can heal ' wounds that make hearts weep'? Write about a time when someone's act of kindness has helped your wounds to heal.
  •  The poet believes that loving kindness 'Can heal the wounds of any land.' Is it as simple as that? What words of advice would you give to today's world leaders about healing a country's wounds, especially in the Middle East?
  • Set a timer for six minutes and write about a time when you have found it hard to show loving kindness to someone.  

Monday, 2 March 2026

Putting in the Seed


 Putting in the Seed

by Robert Frost (1874 –1963)

You come to fetch me from my work to-night 
When supper's on the table, and we'll see 
If I can leave off burying the white 
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree. 
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite, 
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;) 
And go along with you ere you lose sight 
Of what you came for and become like me, 
Slave to a springtime passion for the earth. 
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed 
On through the watching for that early birth 
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed, 
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes 
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.

This poem is in the public domain.
 
This wonderful selection of seeds was in the greenhouse at Helmsley Walled Garden. I'm guessing some of them might be planted by the gardeners, but maybe most will just blow away on the breeze.
 
The ground is warming up, so it's that time of year when seeds need to be put into the ground. Maybe like the poet Robert Frost you are 'slave to a springtime passion for the earth.' If so, click here for advice from the RHS (Royal Horticultural Society) on how to sow hardy annuals like poppies, cornflowers and night-scented stocks.
 
Writing prompts:
  • The poet finds it hard to drag himself away from the business of planting seeds in spring - even when his supper is waiting for him on the table. Write about a time when you have been so engrossed in an activity that you could not drag yourself away.
  • 'Love burns' for the poet when he is putting in the seed. Write about an activity you have undertaken when love burned for you. 
  • The last few lines speak of the 'sturdy seedling' shouldering its way through the soil despite the accompanying weeds. Write about a time when, against all the odds, you have pushed through and survived.  

Saturday, 21 February 2026

Signs of Early Spring

https://unsplash.com/@anna_storsul

In early spring, when winds blow chilly cold,
The yellowhammer, trailing grass, will come
To fix a place and choose an early home,
With yellow breast and head of solid gold.
 
The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside
The battered road; and spreading far and wide
Above the russet clods, the corn is seen
Sprouting its spiry points of tender green,
Where squats the hare, to terrors wide awake,
Like some brown clod the harrows failed to break.
from 'The Skylark' by John Clare
 
Up from their hurry, see, the skylark flies,
And o'er her half-formed nest, with happy wings
Winnows the air, till in the cloud she sings,
Then hangs a dust-spot in the sunny skies,
And drops, and drops, till in her nest she lies.
 
    Sweet type of innocence, snow-clothed blossom,
    Seemly, though vainly, bowing down to shun
    The storm hard-beating on thy wan white bosom.

 
 
 It felt as though winter was finally on its way out today as we cycled on our tandem through the North Yorkshire countryside. Narrow, muddy lanes cut through a flat, water-sodden landscape, but everywhere were signs of early Spring. Nut brown hares nibbled at the green shoots just starting to appear in the fields. Carpets of snowdrops decorated the verges and the hedgerows were busy with twittering birds.The yellowhammer was a particular joy to see and we heard our first skylark of the year.  
 
Poet John Clare enjoyed similar moments, over 160 years ago, in the countryside around his Northampton home. He writes so beautifully about nature and must have dearly missed the flora and fauna in the last couple of decades of his life when he was consigned to Northampton Lunatic Asylum.
 
Writing prompts:
  •   Describe the signs of early spring you have seen where you live.
  •   What would you miss the most if you confined to a place where you could not get out into nature?
Please share your writing or your thoughts below.  
 
  
 
 
 
 

Tuesday, 17 February 2026

Yellow

https://unsplash.com/@anthony_melone
 

 YELLOW
Some people walk into your life with a light
that can only be described as yellow
infusing the very air around with the silent sound of
this will be okay
nothing hard can stay
we will find a way
together
we can reach calmer weather
these people, your yellows
are sunny, endlessly funny
they are warm and safe
a comforting place
they’re a light things can grow in
their heart they wholly throw in
they are cheerleaders for your win
and if you have a yellow in this life
keep them bright
they thrive on giving out light
but they fight
their own dark too
they need a colour beside them
to push on through
and I think they found a fellow
yellow in you. 
 
Donna Ashworth 
From Growing Brave https://amzn.eu/d/0h6ASuCQ

I had the privilege yesterday of attending the funeral of Rebecca Nahapiet. The church was packed with those who had known and loved her for the special, beautiful, joyful person she was. At age 40 she died too young and her passing will have left a hole in many people's lives. 

A teacher once said of her, “You would have to be remarkably perverse to be miserable with your own problems when she is cheerful with hers.” 

Donna Ashworth's touching poem (above) was read out at Rebecca's funeral. She was a 'yellow' for me and for many.  

Writing prompts:

  •  Write about a 'yellow' in your life. 
  •  Do you think you are a 'yellow' for anyone else? Write about how you 'give out light'.
  •  Set a timer and write about 'fighting your own dark'.

Calm of Soul

  


 https://unsplash.com/@javardh

 "May such calm of soul be mine, so as to meet the force of circumstances."

Aeschylus

Writing prompts:

  • Is you soul calm at the moment? If not, set a timer for six minutes and write about what is troubling you. 
  • What 'force of circumstance' are you encountering at the moment? Is there something happening in your life that is out of your control? Write about it for a few minutes and what you might do to bring back some control.  
  • What brings calm to your soul - music, being out in nature, meditation? Write about what you do, or could do, to bring calm into your life.

 

Sunday, 1 February 2026

Logs to burn! Logs to burn!

 

Logs to burn! Logs to burn!
Logs to save the coal a turn!
Here's a word to make you wise
When you hear the woodman's cries.

Beechwood fire burn bright and clear;
Hornbeam blazes too,
If logs are kept a year
And seasoned through and through.

Oak logs will warm you well
If they're old and dry,
Larch logs of pinewood smell
But the sparks will fly.

Pine is good and so is yew
For warmth through winter days
But poplar and willow, too
Take long to dry and blaze.

Birch logs will burn too fast,
Alder scarce at all.
Chestnut logs are good to last
If cut in the fall.

Holly logs will burn like wax,
You should burn them green,
Elm logs like smoldering flax,
No flame is seen.

Pear logs and apple logs,
They will scent your room.
Cherry logs across the dogs
Smell like flowers in bloom.

But ash logs, all smooth and grey,
Burn them green or old,
Buy up all that come your way,
They're worth their weight in gold.

I've been relaxing in front of this log fire while staying at a friend's. It makes the room feel so cosy and warms it up in no time. 

I can light a fire - no problem. My mum taught me. We always had a fire when I was young. At first an open one, burning coal, the only source of heat in the house before central heating. The importance of the fire, and the skill of lighting it and keep it going, was therefore something hammered home by my parents. In a later house we had a stove, burning coke, with a back boiler that heated the water and later the central heating. Woe betide if you let the fire go out!

There were no fire lighters needed in those days. My mum taught me to take a sheet of the Telegraph and Argus newspaper (broadsheet always better of course than tabloid for the purposes of fire-lighting), fold it corner-wise, then roll it up tight, into a long sausage. With flick of the wrist the sausage is then tied and the ends tucked in, to make it compact. A few of these are laid in the grate, then small kindling sticks arranged above and around them, leaving plenty of space for the air the get through. Light the paper, and once the kindling has caught, more sticks can be delicately added, if required. At the right moment (knowing when is an instinctual thing) small pieces of coal can be added and gradually more as the fire builds. 

To aid the 'drawing' of the fire, a small shovel (with a wooden handle!) is balanced in front of the fire and another sheet of newspaper place against it, covering the whole grate. Immediately the fire starts to draw and eventually to roar. Skill is needed to determine how long to wait so that the fire in the grate is properly burning, (but without the 'drawing' sheet bursting into flames!)

Another helpful trick, taught to me by my Nanna, is to throw a handful of sugar on to the fire (but this is not to be advised unless desperate).Nanna also had an open fire and I would sit on her knee some afternoons just watching the fire burn. She would say, "Oh look, there's a dog's head, " or "Can you see that witch's face?", then invite me to stare into the coals and tell her what I saw.

Sometimes the back boiler at home would heat the water in the upstairs tank so much that it would start to boil and emit a thunderous roar. We all jumped up and rushed to turn on the taps until it calmed down and the roaring stopped. All this a long way now from this warm, peaceful, soporific North Yorkshire living room.

Writing prompt:

  •  Write about a skill learnt from a member of your family. 
  •  What do you remember about how your home was heated when you were a child? Write about it.
  • Take a phrase from the poem (eg. 'sparks will fly', 'smell like flowers in bloom', 'worth their weight in gold') and use it as a prompt for further writing. 

  

 

 


Tuesday, 27 January 2026

Carry Pain Like a Tree Does

 

"I want to carry pain like a tree does.

Let the rings of my experience push me to

grow wider and stronger.

I never want to forget each ring that holds

everything I've witnessed, loved and lost,

But I want to keep expanding." 

from 'Tree Rings' by Mari Andrew 

 

I came across this tree stump in the churchyard at Coley, Halifax. I'm not sure what kind it is (sycamore?), or when it was chopped down, but it tells a story, as all trees do. 

Writing prompt:

  •   What's your story? Think of a time when you have experienced pain or loss. Write about how that experience helped you to expand and grow wider and stronger. 


 

Thursday, 1 January 2026

Ring Out the Old, Ring In the New

 

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 In Memoriam, [Ring out, wild bells]

Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809 –1892

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
   The flying cloud, the frosty light:
   The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
   The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
   For those that here we see no more;
   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
   The faithless coldness of the times;
   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
   Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

This poem is in the public domain.

The new year, 2026, is here, presenting new opportunities and a fresh start. Some people will be glad to see the back of 2025, especially if it's been a time of illness, hardship  or grief. Whatever you are leaving behind, I hope this new year sees you fulfilling your hopes and dreams.

As we turn to a fresh page, try to make your writing habit a daily one. Even if you set aside only a few minutes each day you will reap the benefits and see an improvement in your mental health. Clink here to find out why.

Writing prompts:

  • Whether or not the last line of 'In Memoriam' means anything to you, I'm sure you can agree with Tennyson's overall sentiment in this poem. Write about what you will ring out that is 'false' and ring in that is 'true'.
  • Have you experienced 'grief that saps the mind' in 2025? Set a timer and write about the experience for six minutes.
  • Do you think it is possible to 'ring out the thousand wars of old'? Write about how the world could ring in peace.
  • Make two lists - one of all you want to ring out and another of all you want to ring in. If you keep the lists, perhaps you could reflect on them at this time in 2027.
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Saturday, 20 December 2025

Grief and Christmas

 

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I will light candles this Christmas 

by Howard Thurman

I will light Candles this Christmas,
Candles of joy despite all the sadness,
Candles of hope where despair keeps watch,
Candles of courage for fears ever present,
Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days,
Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens,
Candles of love to inspire all my living,
Candles that will burn all year long.

 

This week I have heard of the deaths of two friends. Their grieving families will find Christmas hard without their loved one.

I've also chatted with another friend whose husband died a while ago and who is going away on retreat at Christmas to find some peace, stillness and time for contemplation in her grief. The festivities, for her, are inappropriate.

Let's spare a thought for all those who are grieving and finding this festive period difficult. I send my love to anyone affected and will light a candle to remember those dear friends who have gone.

Writing prompts:

  • Who will you light  candle for this Christmas? Set a timer and write about that person, if you can, for six minutes. 
  • If you are grieving at the moment for someone you love who has gone, write about how it feels. Again set a timer for six minutes.  

Sunday, 30 November 2025

Advent

 

 

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The season of Advent is here. I will light my Advent candle tomorrow, and open the first door on my Advent calendar. My search for one that had anything to do with Christmas ended at Liverpool's Anglican Cathedral where I found a calendar devoid of chocolates, that simply told the Christmas story.

'Advent' seems to come earlier each year. It's somewhat depressing to see the Hallowen'en paraphernalia in shops immediately replaced by Christmas stock. It makes one wonder what it's all about. 

Perhaps I'm feeling nostalgic, or looking at things through rose coloured glasses, but Christmas, and the lead up to it, used to be so simple and therefore, I think, more special. 

There would be a party at junior school, with jelly and ice-cream, musical chairs and a visit from Santa (one of the teachers dressed up in a not-very-convincing disguise) handing out selection boxes wrapped in coloured crepe paper. 

A trip to Santa's grotto at Busby's department store in Bradford was always a treat. 

Letters would be written, requesting a new doll, or clockwork train set, then burnt on the open fire to travel up the chimney and on to the North Pole. 

For weeks we would rehearse the Sunday School Christmas panto, maybe playing a rat or a mouse in Cinderella, or as we got older being promoted to 'the chorus'. 

We'd go door to door singing Christmas carols, and there always seemed to be thick snow.

Christmas morning was magical, waking up in the cold (no central heating) and peering through the dark to find a pillow case, bulging with gifts, at the end of the bed.

Click here to read John Betjeman's poem 'Advent'. 

Click here to read one of my favourite stories, 'The gift of the Magi'. 

However you spend your Advent, I hope it is one filled with simple pleasures and love. Please share your Advent thoughts in the comments box.

Writing prompts:

  • What are your childhood memories of the time leading up to Christmas? 
  • Write a letter to Santa. You can request anything you like in your list!
  • Does all the Christmas hullabaloo start to early in your opinion, or are you happy to see inflatable snowmen and Father Christmases in your neighbours' gardens in October? 


 

The Green Man

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