I hate to speak too soon but I think it might have stopped raining?
I hope so, we had some really nice springy weather yesterday, in which I went for a walk in, with my dear friend Catherine (and managed to seriously twist my ankle something rotten) but never the less it was nice change to be able to go for a walk and not have to worry about the rain.
Now from me, well that’s a bit tricky, does anyone mind if we play pot luck? Sorry I’m so lax at the moment, but at least we’ve had no complaints about how many chapters of The Missing Papers you’ve been getting from me! Anyway, we shall see what I can manage to give you!
In other news we reached 102 followers over on our Twitter Page if you have twitter, please check us out and give us a follow! We do tweet some very interesting Blyton stuff I promise! You can even read about Fiona’s book nightmares!
Right so a bit of a change to end things on this week, I thought I would share a poem I have written with you about the Long Mynd in Shropshire, titled Silence in the Hills.
Silence in the Hills
At the end of Summer,
When all the walkers have gone home,
The hills stand silent and lonely,
Except for the cries of the birds
and the bleats of the sheep.
The hills fall silent through the absence of people
The wind rushes through the bracken
So the hills begin to whisper
At night the hills are cold,
and only wildlife should roam their slopes
As the stars sparkle in the velvet dark sky,
the silence takes control
Sometimes a mist descends,
coating the hills in swirling white
covering them like a woolen blanket
making the hills more silent then before
When it lifts, the silence stays,
and the buzzing of life returns,
but all in all, the silence stays
sometimes more silent than before
rich, and textured and wild.
The silent hills call to all,
wanting to team with life.