TASK: 100 Things You Love

List 100 things you love...

...in no particular order, but be specific, be free, be honest and be your beautiful selves.

I love clouds that look like things, small moments of magic lost in everyday, Amelie, sitting with friends and talking until 4am, bubbles in the bath, bubbles in the air, smooth stones, amethyst crystals caressed smooth, my babies, my mum, touching fingertips, sun dried tomatoes, melting milk chocolate, Greek Islands, warm summer breezes, mountain air, the sea, the poems of ee cummins (who'd have guessed?), skipping, my toes curling into softest sand, the secret spot in the field at Hordern Farm, the first fall of snow, the cell in the Savage tower, Freddie's brilliant brain, Eva's latest flower canvas, Sara B's fish in all mediums, dancing and dancing and dancing some more, writing, crisp new sheets on the bed, plain white paper, Pilot v5 pens, the smell of coffee, the memory of fairies at the bottom of Nanny Jackson's garden...

...and although I said 100 that's probably enough on the blog. I'll confine the rest to page, just for the fun of it and to give me a certain lift.

More on hands...

...and on a more lighthearted note - this is what hands are all about, is it not? Getting dirty and finding beauty and wonder in even the tiniest of shells! :)

My hands...

My hands are letting me down right now.

Our hands help us get up in the morning, by pushing us out of bed, by making that first cup of tea, by splashing cold water on sleepy eyes.

Our hands feed us and clothe us and do much of our work.

Our hands help us play, to create to enjoy...

But my hands are tired. They are fatigued, like the rest of my body, and they don't want to help me out of bed in the morning, they don't want to work and they don't want to play.

But there's something else about hands. And that is touch.

Our hands can reach out and touch those we love. And they can rest on that loved one and draw the energy of life through that simple touch. And even my hands can still rest on my child's head or my husband's arm and fulfil that most fundamental of human needs - to be touched.

Viva ee cummings

somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, you eyes have their silence;
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries;
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

-- ee cummings

from the collection Viva 1931

TASK: Hand stands

Hands touch, heal and hurt; hands reveal, tell the stories of our lives; old hands, young hands, workers hands, idle hands... look and think about hands... post a picture of your own hand, let it tell its own story, be as imaginative as you like with the background, throw shadow puppets, gesture as the mood suits, or simply present an open palm, and write as inspired.

Mr Burns the Dragon by Freddie Thomas Smythe (age 8)

Freddie's firebreathing dragon was created from sticks, bark, moss and feathers, and includes a heart-shaped piece of broken pottery that formed the head, all of which were collected from the winter wonderland that was Buxton Park that day. Freddie had to wait three days for all the woody matter to dry out so he could create it and as soon as he had- it upped and flew away - magical.

Snow Flake the Reindeer by Eva Mae Smythe (age 6)

Eva's reindeer was created from sticks, twigs and leaves collected from the park in Buxton after a glorious winter walk; with the addition of silver-paper snow made from the wrappers of chocolate snowballs eaten in the car on the way home. It all added to the fun.