Anita Dawes's Blog: http://jenanita01.wordpress.com, page 9

Jesse…

I was hoping when I woke up this morning he would be gone, but the moment I opened my eyes, I sensed he was still around.
All my life, I have been subjected to dark, depressive moods to such an extent they seemed normal. Something that happened on a regular basis to me and other people, something I could do little about.
Looking back, I often wonder, which came first, the disasters or Jesse? Could he be the cause of all the trouble in my life, or simply the end result? Did some obscure supernatural force that masqueraded as a large black dog curse me?
No stranger to the conflicting thoughts and emotions that churn around in my head, I knew what it meant. Not going to be a quick visit then, but when was it ever?
I also knew there was little point in arguing with him, as it had never worked in the past. Had I been working too hard in my haste to finish writing my book and move on?
I knew I had, but this couldn’t be what had summoned Jesse again. I love being a writer. Words, sentences and chapters were my friends.
The most important part of writing a book, is the choice of cover, and for some peculiar reason, I just couldn’t do it. I tried repeatedly to first find the inspiration, then to create something suitable, but I didn’t like anything I came up with.
Not one to give up easily, I even commissioned a cover from my friend Chris Graham who is far cleverer than I. But after three failed attempts I had to step back. Something must be seriously wrong this time. Not just overwork or frustration, I was getting mixed signals and failing to recognise any of them. Could it be time to hang up my pencil? But halfway through writing this, I realised that wasn’t the answer.
It is never just one thing that brings Jesse back. He has learned to wait, I swear, knowing that this little car that should, will finally slip off the rails completely.
In the past, I have snapped out of it reasonably quickly, but just lately, it’s as if he doesn’t want to leave me. Maybe he is getting old too, and eager for a quiet life.
Sometimes I miss having a real dog, for all the friendship and loyalty they bring, but in all fairness, I cannot welcome this one into my heart, although sometimes it would seem he is already there.
He has been with me, off and on, for so long now. Almost by default, as he is always there when I seem to need him the most. He never berates or condemns, criticises or demeans and in the midst of all the dark silent terror that is depression, he has become my friend.
Jesse is the embodiment of my despair made manifest. He hasn’t caused my distress, how could he? 
People are too quick to blame him, when the truth is closer to home…
© 2015 Jaye Marie

A Peek into the Past...

On the way to the hospital these last few weeks, I kept getting a glimpse of mysterious chalk cliffs hiding away among some trees, set well back from the road.After noticing them that first time, every day afterwards only increased my desire to get closer and explore.So one sunny morning on our way back from the hospital, we spotted somewhere to park the car and jumped at the chance.
Once out of the car, we discovered a caravan park hiding behind the trees, completely hidden from the road. As we walked towards the cliff face, it was like being in another world. Strangely silent and peaceful, apart from some noisy crows arguing among themselves, high up in the tall trees.The other worldliness increased as we walked slowly along the bottom of the chalk cliffs. They had been there all this time, soaring above us so high, brilliantly white in the sunlight. We wondered just how many other hidden treasures existed, all the places we hadn’t discovered yet.   Further along, we found what looked like boarded up old abandoned tunnel openings, and wondered who had made them and why.


We walked around for what seemed like a long time, reluctant to leave the magic behind and when we finally started to walk back to the car, we met one of the local residents. A lovely woman, who we discovered had lived there most of her life, and knew the tunnels had been used during the war as air raid shelters as she had been in there herself.
These lovely old chalk cliffs are located at the top of Portsdown Hill in Hampshire, overlooking Portsmouth, The Solent and Hayling Island. On a clear day, you can see the Isle of Wight in the distance.The cliffs are a long chalk ridge, situated between the sea and the South Downs. They seem very high, probably about 60 feet, and there are many stories about the real and imagined tunnels. There are active military establishments in the area so anything is possible, I suppose.Apparently, people used to shelter in the tunnels during some of the worst air raids of the second world war, although nobody would have had a good night’s sleep, owing to all the snoring and talking that went on. Not to mention the screaming children and the fact that they kept the lights on all night.
 
The tunnels were about the size of the old Nissan huts, with bunks down either side, two or three tiers high. People used to hate having to go there and they didn’t like the distinctive dank smell either.However, it wasn’t all doom and gloom apparently. Believe it or not, entertainment was laid on, from impromptu acting on a makeshift stage, to the regular visits from an accomplished pianist.
It was also reported that the chalk that was excavated to make these tunnels was used to build some of the local roads, the chalk dust casting a white glow over everything for quite a while afterwards.
It just goes to show, that you don’t really know what has been going on in the past, and you can find some interesting stories if you really look…

Endurance & Power…

I love watching the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race. It takes me right back to when I was sixteen, and I had just moved to Putney where my mother was to run the local Yacht Club that was situated right on the banks of the River Thames.
I was subsequently invited to be on one of the following boats, and I could not imagine anything more romantic. I envisioned myself on board, looking pale and interesting (well, I was a teenager) and hopefully attracting dozens of romantic encounters.
However, the day turned out to be quite a very different experience. To start with, the weather on the river is always cold and windy, and on that day, it rained too. Then there was the wake of all the other boats to contend with. No chance to appear ladylike and refined, when you are hanging on for grim death to avoid being thrown off. The journey from Putney to Mortlake seemed to go on for hours.
Despite the less than perfect setting, and being cold and wet and slightly sea sick, I managed to love every minute. Something about the River Thames has always struck a chord in me. I lived in London for quite a while when I was a child, and somehow you naturally gravitate towards it. At least I did, but then I love water anyway. Sea, rivers, ponds, lakes, I just love them all.
Something about the way water moves, all the powerful currents and tides, has instilled in me a lifelong love of water.
Today, Oxford lost the race but the day was still wonderful.
The water was choppy; threatening to subside both the boats, it was touch and go at one point.  Thousands of people lined the banks of the river, and the young students gave their all. One of the boats was called ‘Endeavour’ and I think that pretty much sums up what we all do every single day, and not just once a year for a famous race.
The secret, I think, is in how hard you try, not really the winning.

Bucket of Dreams

The First Dream
I have reached the time of life when you start to think of all the things you wish you had done. The proverbial Bucket List.
Usually this consists of something you have never done, but always wished you had. The one I am going to tell you about is something I have been trying to do for a very long time.
As a keen bonsai grower, the exquisitely beautiful flowering trees have always fascinated me. Usually far too expensive, so I didn’t have one in my collection.So I tried the next best thing. I planted seeds, pips, fruit stones, anything I could get my hands on. 
Some of them did grow, but a lot of them didn’t. Peach stones in particular, are impossible, and what they never tell you, is that it can take years for a seedling to produce any flowers.
I have two cherry seedlings that I planted four years ago, and every Spring I watch and watch as the first buds appear. But so far, none of them have been flowers buds.
It tests your patience to the absolute limit, but you do it anyway, repeatedly.Apple pips are never very successful I have found, for some reason, they get mildew and gradually die.

The Year one Dream Came True

When we first moved to our present house in Hampshire, in the south of England six years ago, I noticed a Laburnum tree on a roundabout in the middle of town. You don’t see many of these anymore, as people are a bit put off by the fact that the seed pods are poisonous. Silly really, when you consider that most of the plants in our gardens wouldn’t do you any good either.

I love the Laburnum. Such pretty leaves, and in the Spring, long spikes of drooping yellow flowers cascade like a sunshine shower. I had to wait until the flowers had finished and the seed pods were ripe, and then I went and retrieved some.

To cut a long story short, they started to grow. The years passed, and every Spring I waited for the buds to appear. When no flowers appeared, I just assumed they would come along when nature was ready.  
But this year something was different. What I first thought were just leaf buds, began to change shape, becoming pointed. I showed them to my sister Anita, but she doesn’t really share my passion for bonsai. She took a quick look and said I was imagining it.
But I was having none of it. I believed.
Gradually, the flower shoots emerged, growing steadily longer with each day that passed, some even had a faint tinge of yellow. Every day I watched as they grew bigger. I had finally done it. Something I had grown from the seed I collected had finally flowered.


I wonder what will be next?
I look at the tiny tree every day and marvel.  Now I keep thinking about all the other things that should be on my list, and who knows, when something happens I will share it with you…

In the Blink of an Eye...

When did life get so fast?
It’s as if we are on a merry-go-round, and everything around us is becoming a blur. This was brought home to me this morning as I drank my first cup of tea. I was watching the sky get lighter, gradually changing from inky black to grey, wondering what kind of day it would be.
Would it be boring, or eventful maybe? Busy, for sure, my cluttered desk an indication of that. As I watched, the sky became suffused with a gentle pink glow. Gentle fingers of soft pink stretched across the gradually lightening sky.
Even as I watched the wonder of it all, it faded away in an instant, leaving no trace behind. It made me think of all those sunrises and sunsets of my youth. Was it my imagination, or did they seem to last for ages?
Was my memory at fault, or has the world become a much faster place?My photographic skills are not ideal; my glimpses of nature’s marvels tend to be squeezed between rooftops and lampposts as I live in a busy town, but in a way, more precious to me in spite of it.
Every glimpse is precious to me, and my collection of photos grows daily. I am supposed to be sorting through them all, as there is apparently a limit to what my PC can store. But I am having trouble finding the time for far more important tasks, so my eclectic collection will have to wait.
 I didn’t make any resolutions this year as I couldn’t bring myself to think positively about anything much. Being diagnosed with breast cancer just before Christmas will do that to most people, I should think. For all I knew then, I might not have much time left to worry about anything. Now, it would appear that I shall be around for a while yet.
This latest personal drama has been a timely reminder that time is not elastic and no amount of cramming and stretching will make it grow or change the outcome.
Last year, I tried hard to promote all of our books, but despite all of my efforts, failed quite spectacularly. Now, I know it isn’t easy. I also know that my brain doesn’t handle technology well, so I’m not really surprised with the lack of results. I seem to manage to blog quite well most days, and do my best to communicate and support our fellow bloggers. (Even though it takes me away from writing, which will always be my first love)


I shouldn’t think anything will change much this year. We will continue to write, blog and promote, but the desperation seems to have gone. If we never get anywhere, it will not matter. Not really, for we enjoy what we do too much. My time, in particular, is not finite, so the pressure is off and I am looking forward to the coming year already.

Off the wall…

Today was one of ‘those’ days. You know the ones I mean, the ones you wish you hadn’t bothered getting up for.
First off, the PC kept crashing, five times in all when I was trying to read our email, so my mood was deteriorating fast. I had recently tried to clear the computer cache as it was slowing down faster than I was. Now don’t ask me what this means, but apparently it’s something you’re supposed to do to improve the performance. I could do with something like that, come to think of it.
I was starting to get that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach again, which usually means I had screwed up again. I had followed the instructions, but this doesn’t mean a thing these days, as my PC can get into more trouble than I can, and sometimes without my telling it to.
When I stopped for lunch, I thought the day was getting better, but then I had trouble getting the stupid plastic lid off the butter. Most of the time they are so loose they usually fall off, but not today. It nearly broke my fingers, but I managed to control my temper. What I really wanted to do was throw it at the nearest wall.
Then the toaster decided to keep my toast. If it wanted some, all it had to do was ask, not steal mine. One slice was available to me, but the other seemed to be wedged inside the contraption. Now, I know better than to dig around in there with a knife, but the nearest wall was starting to look appealing again, so I forced myself to keep rattling the toaster like a mad woman until it came loose.
By the time I had eaten the toast, my head was pounding and my mood was awful. In the past, my temper has been memorable, but the years have mellowed me quite a bit. At least I thought they had.If the weather was better, I would have gone for a walk, but it was freezing out there and I was supposed to be recuperating from three weeks of radiotherapy. None of my routine jobs looked appealing either, so I decided to play solitaire for over an hour.
Unfortunately, this didn’t improve my mood the way it used to. I felt so guilty for playing hooky, my mood was no better than before.I resolved to do something, anything, to relieve this guilt. I would be even more cross with myself if I didn’t. Hopefully I could pick something that wouldn’t crash, or go wrong the minute I touched it. For I knew I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions if anything did.

So I finished reading the book I was reviewing and in no time at all, I felt noticeably better.  The headache had receded and I no longer wanted to break something.
I probably should stay away from machines, as we really don’t get on. My life would be less hazardous, but incredibly boring, so they are a necessary evil.
They don’t seem to play up for most people, so why me?
What do you do when machines seem to hate you?

To Burn or not to Burn...

It hasn't come to this yet...

#WordlessWednesday

Winter dreams…

Last month when I posted on this blog, I was a bit depressed. Winter was going on too long, far too many grey and dreary days. I looked at my bonsai trees for signs of life, but they were still sleeping. Maybe a few buds looked a little bigger, but that could have been optimism and faulty eyesight. (I have both, in equal measure)

Then yesterday as I walked to the local shops, I noticed signs of life in all the front gardens. Tiny daffodils bobbing in the breeze and early blossom appearing on what I think are almond trees. And a patch of snowdrops bravely trembling in the chilly air. By the time I got home, I was feeling a little uplifted, cheered by what I had seen and knowing that Spring was definitely coming. Maybe a little too slowly for my liking, but hey, I'm not in charge, am I?

 
I will have to go to the garden centre soon and buy new plants for the garden, sure that I would be gardening soon enough. I look forward to tidying up the winter debris of leaves and twigs, not to mention what the cats have done to the flowerbeds. The grass would need cutting soon too; it was starting to grow again.

But then the bad news. Apparently, we are in for more cold weather, possibly snow. I think of the snowdrops.
How would they cope? If the weather was bad enough they might perish. I had seen that happen before, and I wondered again, why Nature got her timing so wrong sometimes. However, the fact that it never seems to matter, that she just continues to do what she does best, should be a lesson to all of us who need to learn a little patience.

I am a huge fan of Mother Nature. I love her delicate touch, the pretty things she creates out of almost nothing. And her drama, the power that she can wield, the destruction and the majesty. I can forgive her anything; for all that she brings to us.
I sit here in front of my computer, hating myself for being as miserable as the weather has been lately, knowing I am made of stronger stuff. At least I think I still am. I have never let the weather get me down this bad before. But as you get older, winter seems to go on forever. The grey monotony of cold, rainy days eats into your soul and you can be forgiven for thinking that this is it, no more happy sunshiny days. No more hope or inspiration.

I am getting quite old now and usually refuse to give in to that sneaky feeling that I am supposed to be winding down and getting ready for the final switch off. Since my heart attack four years ago, and the cancer scare just a few weeks ago, I have been very aware that someone's finger has been on that switch, just waiting for me to get too out of breath, or too angry or upset. I have been avoiding all those things, of course. But I am only human. Some days I feel like screaming out, 'Just do it, and get it over with!' As I get sick of all the waiting.
But other days, I am adamant that I am going nowhere, that I still have so many things to do. And I think that says it all. I should be going somewhere, but somewhere else.

   I look out of my window at my bonsai trees; they are just beginning to herald the arrival of Spring. Tiny leaves of red and green are cheerfully unfolding, lifting my spirits at last.  As I watch, snowflakes begin gently falling. They will not settle this time, I think, the ground is much too wet. But it is trying very hard, falling thickly now and getting nowhere. Nothing to show for all that effort.

That is how I feel most days. Nothing much to show for all my time here on earth. Nothing much left, anyhow. When I climb out of the grey misery, those days when a little brightness peeps through the clouds, I have been wondering if there may be time for one last adventure. One last valiant effort to find some peace, some quiet beauty. Time to create something that will outlive me.

I think I have the strength for one last effort. I must have for I still have the courage, that has never left me. It seems to be all I have left...
4

Saint or Sinner?

If you read the list of attributes for the average Taurean, most of them are highly desirable, and my family would agree that I have most of them. I am practical, generous, patient and loving. Most people like me, but if they were honest, they would admit that my intense stubbornness could sometimes be a bit of a problem. I have yet to come across anyone who can make me change my mind…  I cannot do it either, even when it’s for the best!
My sister hates the fact that I always have to be right, moving heaven and earth to achieve this. Most of the time I am right, but will go to extraordinary lengths to make things fit. Once made up, my mind is unchangeable, even by me!
I have more heads than Worzel Gummidge and have had a go at most things. If I like the look of something and someone made it, I will have a go too. Doesn’t matter what it is either, I learned to upholster furniture that way, and found I had a talent for making those wire and gemstone bonsai trees that were all the rage once upon a time.
I love a challenge and is one of the reasons I became a writer. Although, I did imagine in the beginning that I would write beautifully romantic, magical stories. How I have come to enjoy writing psychological thrillers is a mystery, but there are two on the shelves of Amazon, with more to follow. Maybe there is a darker side to me that I didn’t know about!
Somewhere inside me is an artistic streak, desperately trying to get out and be recognised, and although I have created some lovely things in my time, sheer perfection still eludes me.
I have a weird sense of humour, an infectious laugh and a legendary bad temper. The passing of time has rounded off the edges a little however, as I have learned a little patience.The down side of being a Taurean is not so desirable however, and I have to own up to possessing some of these traits too.
I can be unadventurous, secretive, frugal, possessive, opinionated and overly sentimental. Boring and lazy I would argue with, but I dislike chaos and unnecessary risks. I tend to avoid bossy people, and I am supposed to be good at making money.
Not much sign of that as yet…


This was originally posted last January on Terry Tyler's blog, and you can read it here...