Blogging, Comments (and my realisation)

Hello, it has been a little while since I updated. I have been lost in a project and whenever that happens I tend to disappear into some strange timewarp and lose track of time! So, I just took a break and read the latest post at realia that talks about blogging and her objection to the term 'lurker' for the secret readers, the ones who visit and never comment.

As I read, I had the realisation that before I started blogging myself I used to love to read other peoples blogs, and that I never even once dreamt of commenting! it was just like reading a magazine or a book, it didn't seem like a two way thing. Of course as soon as I started blogging my perspective changed and I realised how appreciated the comments are. Just shows how our views can change depending what side we are observing it from.

Do you leave comments?

If not, is your reason the same as mine was? (aha - "anyone notice my cunning plan" ;-))

By the way, all visitors to my blogs (comments or not!) you are all very welcome.

Painting: Sunrise by Susannah Bec.

Caterpillars and Green Leaves - Memories

I was 5 years old and wasn't too fond of school and was always glad when 'home time' came. I remember leaving the school gates and walking between my Mum and the tall closely clipped privet hedge that bordered the school playground and being totally amazed at the hundreds of brightly coloured caterpillars that made it their home.

Bejewelled, arched, eating machines, with soft hairs covering their wiggly bodies, I was fascinated. I'd pick up the fat caterpillars and place them on my arm, stroking their furry little backs with one finger, I giggled with glee.

As I walked along the hedgerow with my caterpillar jewellery, I would pick the small bright green privet leaves and fold them between my fingers. I loved the feeling of the 'snap' as they broke in two and I carried on with my green origami until the broken leaves could fold no more. Before the hedgerow ended I would carefully replace my caterpillars and gather leaves to snap on the journey home.

Isn't it funny that some memories are completely forgotten, locked away until they are triggered by some random thing - a picture, a sound, a smell and there it is - complete, untainted, fresh. Still existing in its little time capsule, carefully tucked away somewhere beneath the surface.

Supposed to be Shopping

Well, I was supposed to be shopping but I had my camera with me and the surface of the supermarket car park was just begging me to take photos.
I just love the colour of that powdery cobalt blue on the ground!

Yes, before you ask, people WERE staring at me and wondering what on earth I was doing! :-)

Mere colour, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. - Oscar Wilde