Today I am letting you into a secret. I want to take a break from the internet. I have no idea how to do it, but it feels like a good . . .
I don't necessarily think of myself as an older person. But there you are, I am an older person. So when I was asked by Garter . . .
I hear myself saying- I don't know what I'm doing. And there's a freedom in that. I say it, often in . . .
There’s a Girl Inside There is a girl inside. She is randy as a wolf. She will not . . .
"To be a contemplative is to learn to trust deep time and to learn how to rest there and not be wrapped up in chronological time. . . .
"I see myself on the underworld side of that water, the darkness coming in fast, saying all the names I know for a . . .
I spent two days absorbing the art at Tate Modern and Tate Britain the other week. The retrospective of David Hockney was a treat. I don't . . .
She began to bellow just before 3.30 AM. There's a hill of blazing gorse to the east and she had gotten herself up on the top of that hill . . .
We are drawn to the edge. Like so many flamingoes we like to dip our toes into the water and paddle while the sun goes down. Lisbon . . .
It is almost by accident that I am here in Lisbon this week. But I have always wanted to come. My eyes are relieved to have this change of . . .
"Each one of us is alone in the world. It takes great courage to meet the full force of your aloneness. Most of the activity in society is . . .
Darkness, damp nature, gnarled old trees. I'm no witch, but looking into this leafy pool, I fall under its spell. Then down onto the woody . . .
I was talking with an old friend, some one who has been around the block with me over the years. As with most . . .
We had just arrived in Northern Brittany. Our first stop was to be a field on the edge of the Ile Callot. You get there by crossing a . . .
“I wish I could close my eyes and be blown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the . . .
Early morning light at it's best with sprinklings of frosty dew drops. From my window I won't miss a thing that moves or changes. Small . . .
There's something about photographing evening skies that never fails to raise my spirits. Tonight, driving home into the . . .
She is centre stage. Claiming her space amongst the other small birds, gritty and determined. Her tiny feathers are . . .
Six weeks have passed and I am still fairly house bound. At this stage I am crawling the four walls, that common form of . . .
There was a smudge of navy blue painted onto a peachy sky. Nothing had changed but the eery manifestation of fading . . .
I'm like some creature who has been released back into the wild after years of captivity. To protect myself from running around in . . .
Today I make a slow start. The deep winter is here. January brings, at last, the space I've been longing for. 2017 stretches out ahead, . . .
Maybe because of my connections with Sweden and my love of Patti Smith, I was thrilled to hear she would be singing in . . .
It was stormy and grey on the streets of Stockholm where I was visiting family last week, so for a change I was . . .
“All water is holy water.” ― Rajiv Joseph There are five layers. What is in front of my eyes; this pool. . . .
".....let that great sweeping wind blow the fog out of her soul..." L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green . . .
Amidst the bizarreness of the current world, I went off as happy as you like to replace my ten year driving licence which had finally . . .
In our house, it was common enough to find girls lying down in dark rooms listening to poetry sung by an older, Canadian man. My own . . .
Today some portraits, illuminating the mystery of endings. Leaves, lives, moments. Mysteries, Yes Truly, we live . . .
"I’ve done records where it seemed like no one listened to them. You write a poetry book that maybe, you know, 50 . . .
There's an exquisite late blooming iris outside my window. It catches the precious dewey light and . . .