Wild flowers and surprise bulbs are stretching their arms under the blanket of soil which has provided a snug bed from the harsh winter. My Daughter eagerly inspecting her flower patch at the end of the garden awaiting the first signs of green roots to rear their heads. Puddles form in between the cracks of the patio from the drenched perennials that line the boarders of my abode.
Last November I signed up for a blogging event in the hope to really start using my blog as a place to write and as a place to be more outspoken. I feel I use it as a platform for memories but never voice MY opinion, never write about MY life. I wanted to meet people and take a lesson in how to achieve this without bordering too political, bossy or over analyzing situations i have overcome in the past or events happening in the future. I know how some blogs can be too samey and people can dwell on the same subject over and over. Anyway I never did make that class as my Mum fell ill that weekend and after a short hospital stay was diagnosed with cancer. My blog took a back seat but I continued to write occasionally publishing posts mainly about my garden but not really giving my readers any insight to my life. I write well and I write with emotion but I never publish my work on my blog. I keep diary’s for myself. I have kept a diary for my Daughter since the day she was born, full of positivity and cherished memories and I kept a diary for every single day of the last seven weeks of my beautiful mums life. I did not want to miss a single memory. I take great comfort in looking back and knowing that I kept note of all the beautiful things she said to me.