Mama the policeman will have something to say about that. 
Every photograph, though taken on the same day, has slightly different light and is viewed differently by each reader. This is why every writer has something viable to say. 
Some might say: Mama you are looking fat. Others might think she is looking a little bit pregnant, an oxymoron – to be a ‘little bit’ pregnant
My mother, who was not fat, always wore red lipstick and heels every time she went out, even if it was just to the shops. In fact, towards the end, one of her good friends said to me that she could tell Mary was really sick because she had stopped wearing lipstick. Mum wore perfume sprayed from a crystal decanter that she kept on her low oak dressing table. She once laughed about an actress who would spray a mist of bright perfume into the air ahead of her and then step into it allowing the scents to envelop and drift down onto her person at will. My mother did not like to be too heavily scented you see. So she would spray just a little behind her ears, into her soft curls and the aroma of my mother, combined with the drifts of sea spray from just beyond the front gate, would linger there for hours. When she got home and said goodnight with a hug, and her hugs were always quick and to the point – her lipstick still firmly in place, we could smell that mingle of scents in her throat.
nrHatch has thrown down a very gentle challenge. She is hosting a writing competition. The prize is the book A Writers Desk. But more importantly she asks us to write a little about our desk and our writing methods to enter the competition. This is what I was thinking about as I followed the footsteps of a light coyote with a heavy left back paw around the boundary of the farmy. Now, here is my entry for the competition.
Thing One approves of course. 
For me – writing is a little like that long forgotton actress’s footsteps as she moves into droplets of perfume scented air. I hear her light step as I spray the mist of another world into the air before me and then I walk straight in, and I am gone there. The scents and stories settle around me and cling to my skin. The characters lurk about the desk, sitting on old books and sniffing at empty, long stemmed glasses. I sit at our desk for a while. Then I write.
Chomping on consonants and sipping at vowels I was, as I walked the boundaries in the biting cold. 
Then the light changed.
Good morning. Thank you for yesterdays comments, I have ordered my long silk drawers and have even ordered a pair for John. When I present them to him I am going to call them Tights, just to see the look of horror on his face! Why are they called Long Johns anyway. I guess Johns being underwear, but why are undies called Johns?
Have a lovely, lovely day.
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
83 responses to “The Mists of Writing while Walking the Boundaries.”
I thought Mama was looking rather wooly. 🙂 Always pretty. Brrrr it’s cold up there! Bundle up!
Your contest entry is a beautiful piece of writing, Celi, and your photos quite nice, too. The Sun, riding so low in the South, does give some spectacular light — when it shines. It just doesn’t shine anywhere near enough for me. 🙂
Best wishes on your writing contest! Your mom sounds like a very special lady. Take Care, BAM
Ha ha – Mama certainly looks woolly 😉
Beautifully written C!
🙂 Mandy xo
I have never heard of undies being called johns but long johns are indeed infamous. Do you know the Herriot books? Think of the choking goat. And on another note, I wonder what Daisy would make of this?! http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-20907624. 🙂
One has to wonder how sensible it is to TEACH a cow to jump gates and fences. I am sure that Daisy would look at this with delight! Good find.. c
Love the cat in the tree! Loved the Herriot books and tv series. Bought the whole series in fact, but can’t remember the choking goat.
i must read those books again.. c
What a beautiful piece of writing, and I can feel your mother’s presence. My mother too left a cloud of perfume behind when she went out at night. It still reminds me of her, just thinking about it. Perfume is so evocative, goes right to the senses.
Your words have such grace and poise. I adore your description of the act of writing, just so perfect.
There’s a touch of the Monet about the last two photos. Lovely description of your writing process.
Hello, Cecilia.
So lovely to meet you via Nancy’s writing challenge. I love your photos. A sustainable farm…that is a life’s work to be proud of…and it sounds as if you have had many other lives to be proud of.:)
Your entry is a lilting song…and the piece about your mom brought back memories of mine. At 5pm every afternoon, my mother would go upstairs to change and ‘put on her face’…that is put on her makeup and a pretty dress, in preparation for my father’s arrival from work. My sister and I were impressed that this was a routine from which she never faltered.
welcome vivian, wonderful to meet you and what a sparkling memory of your mother, as much as anything she must have felt so much better changing from her every day clothes and dressing for dinner with your father.. it would make an ordinary evening an everyday occassion.. it is a lovely idea, thank you.. c
Hello Cecilia and congratulations! You are one of Nancy’s seven finalists…I knew your entry was special the first time I read it…and rereading it again, I enjoyed it all the more.:)
A lovely post. “Thing One”?! LOL
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I came out of curiosity to see where the spray came from. Curiosity satisfied. Very apt!
Hello Cecilia! Good luck with your entry… for me, your entry had a slight haunting feel to it… pleasant, I must add, not at all frightening!
Thank you Tom. My writing is certainly not haunting.. well not yet anyway!! c