Ogres are like onions. – Shrek-
Singapore has a relatively short history, so our historic buildings are also fairly young. Nevertheless, I am awed by the beauty and gravity that is conservation, and the importance of these buildings to our past.
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
I am a sucker for flowers on the ground: whether they form a carpet of colour on the pavement or sit smug & all alone, I can’t help smiling, and often, stopping to snap a shot. Continue reading “taking time for little things … and not so little things”
The Singapore Botanic Gardens has given me shelter & reprieve from the haze which has kept us indoors a great deal these last few weeks. Continue reading “The Changing Seasons: September 2019”
I am a creature of habit. If left unchecked, I will drive by familiar roads, walk by the same paths, cook tried & tested family favourites. Yet, because someone wise told me long ago that I should break routine at least once a day for the purposes of stimulating creativity, I try to shake it up a little when I can. Continue reading “fruit of a different route”
August was a month of normalisation: a time to take a breath after an exciting few months of family visits and travel. School begins, routines kick back in, space to gawk at familiar places and wonders. Continue reading “The Changing Seasons: August 2019”
“Darling, when you run tomorrow morning, see if you can find this?” came this request as he pushed his computer in front of my nose. Peering at his photograph of what looked like a sweet bun nestled among leaves, I looked enquiringly at him as Loving Husband explained that he chanced upon this curiosity, stark against the dark of foliage, made even more interesting in the twilight hour of his run in the Singapore Botanic Gardens. “I want to know what it looks like now” he explained. Continue reading “little surprising treasures”
In these dark rooms where I live out empty days,
I wander round and round
trying to find the windows.
It will be a great relief when a window opens.
But the windows aren’t there to be found –
or at least I can’t find them.
Perhaps the light will prove another tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will expose?
“The Windows” by C P Cavafy, 1903