with words, wonder

the age of the story.

The low clouds glowed with shades of lavender as I opened the window to see the first colours of Day.

I was listening to a cover of Taylor Swift’s Babylon and, almost immediately, something other than the melody stood out: the resonance of the notes.

nights lost in darkness.

Last month I moved away from using the Ghost CMS to publish pages and posts on my website.

The twenty-first episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out: In Episode 21, I chat with Joel, the author of joelchrono.xyz about, among other things, writing about video games, weeknotes, homepage and website design, and more.

The radiant red leaves, the yellow and brown leaves, the feeling of the cold in my hands and in my cheeks.

red, amber, green; leaves, lights.

When I opened the window this morning, I was greeted by a white and grey disk, the grey blending into the light blue of the surrounding skies.

When I published Sunset this evening, I saw the post in my web reader, Artemis, and realised that the title was not what I expected.

Glistening over the hills in the immediate distance, the rainbow made me first pause for breath, then pause for thought.This is the first time in months I have seen a rainbow.

The sun danced with the clouds in a competition where both the clouds and the sun wins, for there is always light and cloud.

Two people slightly in front of me, to my left, crane their heads to the sky, following the one-hundred-and-eighty-year-old structure to our right.

7:00.

When I walk around the world I like to take notes of what I see, hear and feel: of the rhythms and routines, of the moments of kindness, of the times when I examine and re-examine what the places where I spend the most time mean to me.

I don’t know exactly how the trees are changing, the details being so minute and complex at once, but I know that they are.

What if I don’t have to go anywhere to feel the world?

I love how a conversation can flow from dishes to Ted Lasso 1 to stickers.

Sometimes you wipe away words and their imprint – the place where you left them – remains inked in your mind.

The twentieth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out: In Episode 20, I chat with Sara, the author of sarajoy.dev and whimsica11y.net, among other things, the importance of web accessibility, screen readers, and the joy of exploring and making things on…

I stand at the bookshelves — art and Nature and biography and memoir — and ask myself what story I want to tell.

Frances post Highlights of my week has inspired me to write a list of things I love and that bring me joy.

The feeling of fresh air after having been in an art gallery — the feeling of the natural light after being in a room without windows and also a room with many windows, windows through time and to the feeling of home and to impressions of Nature — to the…

This week I was writing a story and noticed something strange: I didn’t give the document a title, but, after saving it, the document had a title that I did not expect.

I stand under a warm autumn sun and look back and see a dark cloud, seemingly resting still in the sky.

The nineteenth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out: In Episode 19, I chat with Daniel, the author of melonking.net and maintainer of the Melonland community forum about, among other things, longevity on the web, the 'web revival', the creative potent…

A while ago, I noticed that my headings did not look consistent across Firefox and Safari.

Yesterday – September 13th – was the 256th day of the year.

The joy of the cool morning air and the seeing singing birds fly between trees.

This year I have been drinking more tea than coffee.

the music of poetry. the poetry of music. the feeling of architecture. the architecture of feeling. the design of the space. the space of design. the rhythm of the moment. the moment of the rhythm. the story of the print. the print of the story. the sound…

Herein, vignettes of today.

The perspective of the painting; the painting of perspective; the perspective of the viewing.

the silence of the painting; the music of the painting.

My home page is a poem.

Summer is becoming autumn: as days pass, the green leaves slowly turn yellow.

I woke up in excitement this morning.

I close my eyes and I can still see the blanket of stars that I saw moments ago when I was leaning as close as I could into the glass of the window such that I could see as many stars as possible.

You get that darkness out your head, yeah You had it with you from the start The lightning in your heart ~ Kid, The Revivalists Last evening – and for the last few days – I have been feeling a little bit down.

We’ve gotta keep going.

The eighteenth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out: In Episode 18, I chat with Ava, the author of blog.avas.space about, among other things, data protection and privacy, consent in the context of privacy, the armchair of great blogging, and more.

Earlier this week I was chatting with a friend about the skills I am learning from art history.

Earlier this year I noticed my Artemis reader page (the page that lists posts published by sites to which I am subscribed) was loading slowly.

You can use the web to share your poetry, or photography, or essays, or drawings, or sketches, or music, and everything in between.

rabbits leaping, birds tweeting, the sun rising, hills welcoming, breeze blowing, paths winding, potential painting, colours calming: skies awakening, day breaking.

colours shimmering, sun lowering. leaves leaving, seasons deepening. trees lightening: branches preparing. winds cooling, time wintering.

six strings sit still song soon.

This is my second music exchange with V.H.

trees and canopies shelter for the fisherman stoic as a river: he is still in movement engaged like a painter watching the moment.

Opening the window, a vivid dancing shadow of the trees between the glass and the sun appears the wall, illuminating yesterday’s ideas written across my whiteboard.