Defiant

Sometimes song words get under my skin.  I'm incredibly word sensitive - that's two edged. I've had disagreements over words meant kindly, or just thrown flippantly at me. The flip side is mulling over words as I walk or drive.  Today we sung Rend Collective "more than conquerors"at church and I realise I've heard this before. I actually have the CD.  Somewhere. I tend to listen to music in the car more than the house. So I drive to Budleigh listening to the words "we are more than conquerors through Christ" and "we are defiant in his name" It's a brilliant, resilient, cheerful song, which you can only sing at a belt and with volume.  I want it to soak into me like water, like dye, like plants taking sap up.  Because a little gentle defiance is what is needed at the moment.  Along with knowing God loves me and being honest, gentle and persistent.  I am trying not to let fear get me under it's black ice grip and not always succeeding.  Defiance.  Definitely. Always fight, just be sure it's worth fighting for.

The sun was out for a brief hour and a half and the sea was strongly striped with deep jade and rusty brown.  The general fashion trend was sunglasses and woolly hats - and defiant ice cream eating!  Not for me.  I'll save that for holiday.

Blown Away

Blustery strong wind- the sort that makes a flapping sail of your trousers and jacket.  Today's fight uphill against body blasting breeze leaves me slightened deafened and feeling more alive than I have done the rest of the week.  Brean Down is more up than down, with the delightful surprise of an 18th century fort to discover and ramble around. My friend is so pleased that I have never been here and we "walk and talk" and lean on 20th century searchlight emplacement walls and dream.  Or at least I do.

Wind is cleansing, a healing relaxant.  So are bacon rolls and tea and a very unseasonal ice cream .  The first of the season.  March is a new month and such things need celebrating with morello cherry and white choc chip icecream.  Lent?  I promised to give up milk chocolate, not white or dark!!

Sarah Sat Nav

I have a new toy.  She's an early "from me to me with a little parental contribution" present.  Timely.  Where was she all my life?  Oh but she is bossy.  I took her up to the valley of the rocks on Exmoor for a little run as I was 7 O'clock restless and knew me and God weren't going to sit and chat anytime soon.  Sarah S N suggested and then INSISTED I turn left - but I went up over Stoke Hill to drive the valley road with its twisty route.  It brings out my inner rally driver, this route up to Lynton.

Daffodils and puddles, sandbags on the doorsteps, boards up along the harbour beach entrance wall.  But instead of a storm, there was sunshine.  I spend some time photographing boats in the harbour and the lumpy chains that hold them down, avenues of posts like some kind of wood henge.  Sunk deep in a sofa in the Lynmouth tourist information cafe with a fluffy cappucino, I read the book I couldn't sit still to read earlier - a second reading of "There are no strong people" by Jeff Lucas.  It's been a tough week. The coast path winds up a steep climb and I emerged breathless and sticky into the wind and deep shadowed green of the coast.  Bent and twisted trees, bright sharp gorse and layered rocks in the sharp clear light of a pre-storm day.

I feel my soul fill up again and a burst of happy joy.  I love this place, it's my refuge.  Down the goat track path to the "alternative" beach with it's deep driven green bowl sides, gritty grey sand and the most magnificent sea with creaming waves, blown sea spume, froth and bubbles.  There is just nothing like the sound of the sea and the sight of all that spray bursting up in front of you to make you relax.  I take photo after photo and watch and listen.