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Spring bouquets, random flowers plucked and trimmed

tucked in glass vases half full, tap water warnings of pharma cocktails

only traces though, races through green veins, photosynthesis at work

the violet blooms erupt from tight buds, scarlet on dove white

sun dazzled heads slowly droop, and hang, like empty withdrawal symptoms

for a moment they were brilliant, alive

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La buveuse d’absinthe (P. Picasso, 1901)

Contemplating 2023 like the woman in Picasso’s painting…which book will I choose from my TBR pile to read first? Some decisions take time (and liquid courage) to make!

After looking over the many books waiting for my attention that I absolutely look forward to cracking open, I’ve chosen Karl Ove Knausgaard’s highly acclaimed novel, My Struggle, as my first read of 2023.

Raising a glass to all the book lovers out there, may your first read of 2023 be one to remember for many years to come!

Happy New Year!

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Researching often means I get to indulge in reading books I consequently fall in love with that lead me to other books in a never ending roadmap of discovery. This morning, while researching woodlands, I came across a quote by Wordsworth “… with gentle hand | Touch — for there is a spirit in the woods” from his poem Nutting, so of course I had to read the rest of the poem. I found my book of his major works, searched the glossary for the page number, and then the book flipped open straight to the poem. I paused, thinking that was cool, but just as I started to read aloud (as I often do with poetry), my iPhone stopped playing music, as though this poem demanded quiet. It was sudden and mysterious — I had to share. And yes, the poem is wonderful! 🙌

*Woods: A Celebration by Robert Penn

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London’s lockdown seems to have ended. The streets are crowded with people again, as though the threat of death no longer looms. Is it the fair Friday weather that lulls them into a false sense of security? Or is it the human condition to forget, doomed to repeat our painful histories, that pulls them out of their homes in too large crowds? Passing them on the pavement feels like playing Russian roulette, an unnecessary game with a consequence that outweighs the prize. There are too many people willing to play. Too many bullets in the gun. I’m staying inside again. I can always walk in my dreams.

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Found in my mother’s garden, a pot of spawning cactus plants. A google search informed me they are hedgehog cactus. I’m not 100% certain that’s correct, but I love the name, so I’m sticking with it! My mother’s garden is full of surprising delights tucked away in nooks and crannies. A slow wander around with a sharp eye is an early morning treat.

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White Chrysanthemum has been shortlisted for Best First Novel by the Writers’ Guild of Great Britain. I’m honoured to be selected along with two wonderful writers Guy Gunaratne (In Our Mad and Furious City) and Nicola Mostyn (The Gods of Love). If you have time over the holidays, pick up their books and give them a read. If you haven’t read mine yet, what are you waiting for!?

Happy holidays and happy reading!