A walk over the ploughed flats of Norfolk. Brown and grey.
Cracked clods of earth underfoot, thick and heavy from harvest.
The dog bounds off the leash, after sticks, after birds.
And here we all are, to bid farewell.
A goodbye in the wind.
Granny says, 'she said the air was like champagne up here.'
I adore that description. Champagne.
Bubbles through the yellow leaves. Fizz through the sloes.
And onwards, a thoughtful walk, on dirt track,
under canopied boughs, and mossy floor.
Here we are, journeys end, her resting place. Only us.
A pond at low ebb, ferns and reeds bent over.
One bench.
She loved to walk her dogs here. In the champagne.
I liked her. A lot.
Straight and sturdy (if you discount the broken hip).
Honest to the bone.
A fierce wit.
Out comes the jar and spoon. Sacred dust.
Like course granules. Chalk white.
Powder in the grass. Particles of a life well lived.
Ashes and atoms.
In the air.
Away and beyond.
Like course granules. Chalk white.
Powder in the grass. Particles of a life well lived.
Ashes and atoms.
In the air.
Away and beyond.
Little A says, 'Bye bye Great Granny.'
Little A says, 'Great Granny has turned into a star.'
Life and death in one burst.
Flesh and bone between her fingers.
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A foot note: This was Little A's Great Granny on Younger Dad's side of the family. She passed away over a year ago, her ashes scattered this September.
This is the first day of the seasonal linky One Week. Over the next three days (Monday till Wednesday) I'll be posting a photograph(s) and a few words that diarises and distills my experience of autumn '13. Take a peep at the details here. You can join in for one, two ... or the full three days. And don't forget to add #oneweek on Twitter, and comment on each others posts...
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