The Light Circus

Roll up, roll up!

Come and walk where the trees burn with rainbows! Join us in a land of magic and wonder, where colours bleed into the sky and claw their way towards the stars, where darkness is made bright! Ladies and gentlemen, follow us to a place where the air is so cold your lungs will turn it white, a place so cold your skin will bump with gooses!

Roll up, roll up, and keep your eyes wide open!

And please, ladies and gentlemen, remember to stay with us on the paths!

For we cannot help you beyond the lights. We cannot help you in the dark.

And who knows what’s waiting for you there?

Christmas lights in Dorset. Colourful illuminated trees in December. Rainbow colours. Christmas illumination in a country garden, England.

Cobwebs

You know the saying “blow the cobwebs away”? After walking at Durdle Door today, I’m pretty sure I’m sorted on the cobwebs front for life.

It was so – so, so, so – windy. My face hurt. My ears hurt. My eyes hurt. My eyelashes even hurt, as the air tried its best to burrow into my eye sockets and brain.

Between the steps down to Man O’ War beach and the steps to Durdle Door, the air funnelled through so hard it was like being battered in the face and chest. I thought, at one point, my shirt and jacket might sink through my skin, tear through my ribs, and rip out through my spine, leaving a tangly mess of me and my clothes in the churning sea below.

Luckily, that didn’t happen. Which is good, because it means I can go again sometime.

Maybe when it’s a little less windy, though.

Man of War Bay, Durdle Door, Dorset, November 2017.

The Noisy Library

Once upon a time there was a woman who went out in the rain – pouring, sideways, punch-you-in-the-face, pissing-it-down rain – and immediately regretted it. She regretted her ballet pump shoes and regretted her flimsy umbrella, though she was thankful for her many-sizes-too-big raincoat which made her look like a walking tent (even if said coat meant all the rain just ran down onto her jeans. At least her top half was dry. Well, all the top half that wasn’t her face. That was very wet).

Anyway, when the woman realised her mistake she figured the best thing she could do was seek shelter in the library.

And the library she found shelter in was noisy.

No sshhhs. No keep quiets. No awkward, stifled coughs. Just lots of people – kids, parents, friends, half-soaked women – exploring and enjoying the library. Not loudly in the grand scheme of things, but loudly in the library scheme of things.

It was nice.

Peace and quiet are lovely. They are a sanctuary.

But a noisy library on a rainy day?

That is something special.

Morning Rain

The sound of rain outisde my window early this morning made me happy.

The drips and drops and thousand tiny splashes humming on paving slabs and freshly unfurled leaves made me want to run outside and stay there until my skin became only a half-skin, the rest of it made up of water and sky.

Once I’d got up, once I’d made a cup of tea, once I’d cuddled one cat, two cats, three cats, I stood at the doorway in my pyjamas and listened to the garden echo with rain and birdsong. My toes got wet as they gripped the doorstep. My lungs got clean as they filtered soggy air. My heart got heavy as it realised I wasn’t brave enough to step out into this soaking, squelchy, drowning world because my head had decided it was a silly thing to do.

It was silly. Totally silly. Silly through and through.

It’s natural to want to bask in sunshine, but to want to bask in rain?

Not. Sensible.

That, though, had been the point.

I’ve spent the rest of the day trying to make up for my lack of bravery, but being kitted out with boots and a raincoat kind of takes the magic away.

So tomorrow, I hope it’s raining when I wake up.

If it is, you’ll find me in the garden in my pj’s, clutching a cup of overflowing-diluted-rainy tea, being completely and utterly ridiculous.

Come join me!

Bluebell Time of Year

Spring is bluebell time of year in England.

Woods and gardens bubble over with purple-blue droplets, speckled against a background of the brightest green.

English bluebells in a bluebell wood on the Kingston Lacy estate, Dorset, England.
Bluebells on the Kingston Lacy estate, Dorset.

There are those who say it is dangerous to walk amongst the bluebells. They say some never return from their wanderings, snatched away by fairies.

And if you hear the bluebells ring, it is said, you’ll die before the next morning.

I say, I’m willing to take my chances…

Late Winter Magic

I love this time of year.

Days slowly getting longer. Brave flowers peeping up out of the cool ground. Promising warmth in golden sunshine.

It’s a happy mix of the perks of winter – the cosy evenings in front of the fire, a pair of cold hands kept warm by a mug of hot chocolate, rosy red cheeks from frosty air – whilst knowing that spring and summer, with all their greenness and sunniness and loveliness, are on the way.

A late winter magic.

Pink camellia flower head, at Kingston Lacy, Dorset.
Camellia flower head in the woods at Kingston Lacy, Dorset.

I try to spend as much time as possible outside at this point in the year, soaking in some much needed sun rays and enjoying all the bursts of bright colour in amongst the greens and browns.

It makes me happy, hopeful, and energised.

Here’s to a good week ahead!

Intro

Hello! *waves*

I’m Pippin and I’m a writer based in Dorset, south-west England.

I’m not exactly new to blogging – my craft/vintage blog Pippin Run Wild has been going since October 2012 – but this blog is, so a post to introduce it seemed like a good place to start.

I’ve been writing stories – big, small, made up, and real – ever since I was little. And I’ve loved reading them ever since I can remember too. The latter most probably inspired the former.

I particularly love fairy & folk tales, myths & legends, and ghost stories.

But reading is reading, so you’re also pretty likely to find me reading a food packet from front to back (resolutely ignoring the calorie section), or a newspaper, or a magazine, or an instruction manual (as long as it’s not for something that I’m actually needing instruction on), or… well, just about anything with words really.

This blog is for sharing the things that capture and sometimes come from my imagination (which are things more likely to be of the fairytale/myth/ghost story variety as opposed to the food packet/newspaper/instruction manual kind), and stories from my everyday life too.

My hope is that these things, or at least one or two of them, might capture your imagination too…