Saturday, May 2, 2009

Feelin' Blooby


Past the open carrot troughs where
Maurice resides and gleeful bloggers are to be found shouting, there lies a short lane to a forest of bliss.


This, by the way, is my secret back garden. I share it with hundreds of other people (and a squat farmer who insists on trying to run me down with his tractor), but as it’s only ten minutes from my real back garden, I don’t particularly care.


As a writer, I treasure this place. Sometimes, I wander round with a notebook, sometimes I dress in clothes, but I’m always on the hunt for ideas. It’s physiological nonsense, of course, but I find my brain functions at its creative best when I’m on the move — although I ruled out trying to speed the process up by riding a bicycle shortly after colliding with a muscle-bound jogger and his equally muscle-bound dog. I think it’s because I appreciate the kind of moving scenery it’s hard to duplicate in a study without recourse to earthquakes (or, picking up from
McKoala’s Disneyland post, Hex at Alton Towers).

Anyhow, that’s by the by. What matters for the moment is that the bluebells are out in force, tinkling their chimes into the elven sublime. I’m no great believer in fairies (though as a child, Larry Grayson had me seriously pumped with collywobbles), but on a sunny day when there’s no-one else about you can almost hear them whispering like a pair of laddered tights.


They say:
“Bugger off, Whirl. Bugger off, Whirl.



9 comments:

Aerin said...

That was a particularly scrumptious offering, Whirl.

Natalie said...

Beautiful. There is something about being outside that gets the creative juices going. I miss living in a prettier neighborhood. Right now I live with a lot of uninspiring asphalt.

Kiersten said...

Who'd have guessed bluebells were so...grouchy?

writtenwyrdd said...

Usually it's the trees whispering Go to sleeeeep beside me so I can thruuuust my roooots through your earrrrs. but maybe that's just the American plant life.

Robin S. said...

Gorgeous! You Brits do woods like nobody else does woods.

fairyhedgehog said...

That's a beautiful place. I'd love to wander there.

JaneyV said...

Oh Whirl! I too love the woods and am often seen sans jammies (but still clothed I add) searching for my muse.

Hubby's been at home for a few days and we went a picturetaking in our purple slice of heaven. Soon to be posted (if I remember how).

My woods have fairies. I found the door to their palace.

My bluebells are equally arsey. They regularly yell "Stop your bloody mutt from crapping on us!"

Whirlochre said...

Ah, yes, lost dogs. I'm a frequent helper-outer in that regard.

Nothing beats romping round the rotting undergrowth with a total stranger shouting, "Hieronymous! Hieronymous!"

sylvia said...

Bluebells! And a what a stunning little hideaway you have there.

I bet the bluebells were really just telling you to bugger off and come back once you had your notebook!

No bluebells in Spain. :(