6 years

Today it’s been six years since i left my English shores for the ride of my life. Those of you who know me, know that looking back for me is a painful thing.. not because of regret but because of nostalgia. Looking back i struggle to let go of the past —  with her claws in my back like some wounded banshee.
I miss the beaches, i miss Bristol harbour side and i miss sailing every week with my good friend. I lament the loss of those few good times i had.
My fondest memories from Britain was sitting in an old wooden ship pub with Pat — talking about sailors of old, ghost stories about pussy penny pickers and discuss all the books i’d write, all that after a good sail and a couple of biscuits between sea shanties. The joy i felt those days and nights — i knew they would not last forever. I suppose a part of me knew that i would supposed to leave England eventually. But i of course though i’d be going the other way. Back to Denmark.
I truly lived the life of Treasure Island for a while back there. I visited all the places and saw the world differently, i sexed with history and bleed for her to boot.
And as soon as that happened — i fell in love. A love that existed and stretched so far past the horizon that i had no choice but to follow as my heart ran away with me.
I don’t regret a day,  perhaps i wish every world i’ve lived in and nurtured didn’t have to be so far apart. So separated and recoiled by one another.

pondering by the window, counting my blessings and thinking about writing my next adventure.

I still find it hard to fathom where i am now. Living in Wyoming where the wind is rough and its cold as a buffalo carcass in the ice. Moving to Wyoming plays a big part in me finally managing and feeling inspired to finish that western novel. And now that i achieved that wonderful feat — we’re ready go move back to Texas, preferably by the coast so i can sit by the water and writer my nautical novel. Novel number 2.
We won’t be moving every time i write a particular kind of novel, it just played out that way this time. In New England i felt so drained, i didn’t belong there and it was tough and tiresome. Our road trip west really brought the love back for the West that i’d been missing.

With Texas being back on the cards, and moving there again — its a strange feeling. A home coming but with the two of us… it wounds my heart that Basil wont be returning with us in the flesh, but life is full of its hardships. I hope it happens as soon as possible. I’d personally also love to try to live in Denmark in the forest, near a sea, with Jack for a while but i don’t know how well that would go. I think we’d live happily and well but we’d grow bored of the quiet still living where nothing really happens. But you never know. We could end up living on a boat out in the Gulf of Mexico and sailing to wherever we wanted. Who knows. The world is our clam and its all dumb uncertain. All i know right now, in this moment, is that i’m so glad i dared to love blindly, move freely and let a Texas fella tell me a secret.

I count my stars and lifelines every day. What do you count your stars for? What mad crazy thing did you do?

my bear flute **video**

So i’ve been keeping this a little under wraps. I was unsure if i’d like to show this part of my life but I’ve wanted to learn to play the flute for many many years, however i couldn’t afford to buy one. Then one day i came home and this bear flute was sitting in a beautifully embroidered sleeve — waiting for me to learn to play it. Immediately i flicked through the book that. came with it and i picked it up pretty well from the beginning. Unfortunately i suddenly got incredibly busy so i set it aside and have recently had the time to pick it up and play.  I’ve learned to play a lot already! I’m really pleased. Its been years since i learned to play the recorder — but this bear flute feels like it was made for me. It has beautiful low tones and just placing it against my lips feels like a gift; the wood having a warm rich taste like a happy whiskey, if such a thing exists.

I hope you enjoy the video, even though it is very short. I hope to make a lot more and longer ones in future, this was a test to see how to record the flute itself and then trying out a new spot for filming in.  My new favourite spot to go on weekends to relax and be wild again. In the video you’ll get to see my resident bunny and two of the resident crows that have a nest in one of our trees. I dearly love all our back yard visitors — there are so many!
All i need to do now is practice and think of a name for the bear flute. Any suggestions?
What have you been doing to keep busy during corvid-19 ?  Have you learnt any new skills or picked up any old ones?
Let me know in the comments. 🙂

Have a lovely night and thanks, as always, for stopping by!

could you close your flap so i don’t fore go my boiled eggs?

It was a quiet weekend here with us. We’ve taken walks away from everyone, and right now Jack is taking care of the shopping whilst i sit in the car to limit the chances of covid exposure. I don’t mind all that much because i dislike shopping — Walmart being mostly the only option. Since we’ve been staying at home most of the time i’ve been finishing projects and starting new ones. Lately i’ve started playing a new instrument, i’ve been finishing knitting projects for etsy and have the mind to work some on my novel writing and dreading the search for rejecting literary agents. I’ve also started working on digital drawing using photoshop (which is a lot harder than it sounds). I’ve already worked on a few logos and tshirt designs for the horse revival i volunteer with. Next week we’re going out to pick up a new mustang from northern Wyoming. I’m pretty excited and pleased, because we tried to go get the poor thing last week and were sure it was going to get shot in the field due to ridiculous issues. However, it seems we’ll get another chance to go and get him next week. Fingers crossed.


As for staying home and the social distancing, i like it. I’ve always crossed the road when someone can my direction on a walk – so thats not new. I actually think i get a lot more done at home, i’m more productive even since my job has become crazy during this entire pandemic started and again, fitting in the writing is the tough part.
I also called Pat today, my good old sailing friend, i’ve been meaning to call him for weeks now but i hadn’t got around to it. How we talked and laughed like old times, it was so good for my bones. I can continue a little longer. We talked about boats Jack and i might buy to live on one day when we return to Texas. We laughed about forepeaks and i was honoured when i found that one of the lines i’d made for his sails was still holding strong — one of his prized possessions he said. That is a great compliment from a galant man of the sea. I don’t have friends as such, i’m a very internal person. I’ll perform for an audience but i wont talk to them after. So you can imagine how important he is to me.

I think thats about all from me, i’ve been suffering from a ghastly headache all day and night, so i think i’ll see goodbye and hope you write more when i feel better.

Stay safe and stay home..

i’ve been gone from home a long damn time now


I’ve been gone from home a long damn time now. I don’t remember it much, the memories escape me and are beginning to seem like nightmares, some of the good dreams appearing like golden stones amongst all the broken rocks on all those beaches i once watched stretch far as the eye could see — while i sailed around the South West Coast of England. For many years i blamed England for a lot of things, my hardest living was on those shores and it gave me that cynical shell i so like to stew in but lately i’ve been missing home. The good house on Sand Road that now stands ruined by modern greed, the bay where i’d run into the sea in the middle of winter and wave the pirates by — waiting till i was old enough to go with them. Where i was soft hearted, and i was truly. I’d go and see the fine commodore, my dearest friend, and talk about all the things he’d seen and he’d tell me of the writer he knew i’d be. When all was deaftly quiet i would tell him..
“If something happens while i’m gone,” i’d say all choked up and taking a long look at my once only friend. “You come and you tell me yourself, no matter how you go. You find a way to tell me — and you promise to visit me.”
“Oh Izzie, i will. I’ll sit in a dark corner with a bottle of good chardonnay and boo at you as much as you like.
It’s a tough life living on wheels and wings and strange intentions. But thats me, whether i asked for it or not. Honestly, i think i always knew that i would never live any place forever and thats why i still to this day am very dubious about letting folks in. Whats the point when i wont be around long enough for anything to matter?


For the rest of my life my heart will always be a little broken and lost, with no real place thats mine and as the years go by i’m beginning to get real square with it. Lately i’ve found everything hard and i don’t mean that to seem bad, its not necessarily. I’m still here to ride through it, right? I don’t really understand what i’m meant for. To move from place to place like my traveller ancestors? To sail out in the venturous sea like my forefathers and gods or if i am simply bred to exist and talk about whatever my hearts dreaming of?  I could be dead before i find that out, which tells me thats not that important.
England, old girl and sailors haven, how i miss you today. And i suppose it’ll always been on the heart of my sleeve, but i forgive her now. I’ve hit the age that i can forgive her and i hope she forgives me, perhaps now we may both have peace. It took me moving to the western world where the sand is red like blood, the wind is a bitch and where i see possibilities where there are only stray mustangs and jagged cliffs — for me to realise that England made me hardy girl.
Summers beginning to loom in, teasing us with her random warm days full of sunshine from here to China. I’ve never wished for Summer more than i am lately. Winter in Wyoming wasn’t as bad as we’d been told it would be, but it feels like we’ve been living in the cold for 5 years and seen very little of good sunshine. Suppose we’re missing our Texas sunrises and hot afternoons with bees buzzing about us like poverty ridden men with no water.

Wyoming was one of my favourite places when we first moved here, i loved it before i started working. It was a free place where i could see Calamity Jane in the street and hear her drunken cussing as she rode into the dark. Since then, i’ve started to realise — as much as i like it here and enjoy the landscape, theres too much willing us onwards a final time, or southwards i guess. Perhaps if my situation was different and i was living like a western author i could see about living here for years to come, but Its not Texas. Its not a place we can run to when shit hits the fan, theres no Matt Le Blanc to talk through life’s troubles with and love til the day we all die, no Van Roekel or Madeley to laugh and live with. Texas, why the thought of her now sends tears to my eyes and sends my heart into absolutely frustration. The home where i fell in love with a Texas boy, and the little dog at his feet who loved me through all my faults.


While i sat on this rock and waited for the camera to click, my life flew by like a stone through a window. I never dreamed i’d be where i was. I never would’ve believed that that person sat right there — would be me. But it is. Im tough, i’m honest and getting there. I pretty rough around the edges after all these years and a lot of scars richer than before. Wyoming inspired me and gave me the push i needed to finish my novel, something i never believed i’d achieve. I have finished it and while the rest of the world is crying in a pandemic, all i can think about is my novel and the new venture i’m about to embark on. I’ll always be who i was, and i’ll always keep changing.

I wanted to go out to take pictures on Saturday, i had this feeling that i needed to get out out out. So we took a walk by the outskirts of town. We found new places to explore when the summer finally shows up. I sat down and played my flute a while as i listened to the wind, Jack holding my camera up so the wind wouldn’t knock it over and thats were this little bleeding notion hit me, and thats what i’m doing here. Sharing it with you.

riding and the bone clinic

Saturday i spent the afternoon at a Bone Clinic with some friends. A lot of the stuff went well over my head but i was glad to be there anyway and got a little leaflet i could take notes in. I was even lucky to meet the local Barefoot trimmer there, whom i’ve hoping to get some trimming experience from in the near future, i hadn’t met her personally yet so over i waltzed and introduced myself. I’m pretty excited as to what possibilities that might have for me — maybe the farrier course wasn’t meant to be because barefoot trimming sounds more my type of deal. In future i’d still love to do some blacksmithing and forging, but that’ll come with time. With any luck.

The hoof

Since i started volunteering at the Equine Revival i’ve really been thrown into the horse industry head first, something i don’t quite dare to believe… ever. There are many times i’d wished to be doing what i am now, and now im too scared to think about it incase it gets taken away from me. I don’t want to take a single moment for granted. I’ve been to an Expo, a clinic and been out riding a time or two; not particularly well but i’ll get there. And i only contacted them & gave in my application a little over two or three weeks ago.

This is Sarah’s horse. Her name is Inca and she’s lead mare. She is one of the most beautiful horses i’ve ever seen — im pretty excited to see her without her winter coat — which probably wont be too long now. All the horses are shedding like crazy. Its a privilege to get to ride her though and she’s a good egg for putting up with me — letting me figure everything out. I get it wrong a lot but i’ll find my way. Sarah was kind enough to take a few pictures of me riding her the other night.
My serious concentration faces are not sexy. Big glasses and a double chin doesn’t exactly work with the whole “Western” vibe i have going on… so instead i made myself into some of my TV heros. Gus McCrae and the Stranger from the Big Lebowski.

Transitioning into REAL western riding on a real western horse, with folks who know what they’re talking about and have done it forever, is pretty daunting for me. I come away every time feeling a bit of a fool, but thanks to their support i keep trying. I’m kinda good  with the fact that i can share the journey of learning the cowboy way on my blog this time.
Last time i rode without a saddle as Annie the quarter horse uses the same saddle as Inca, and even that i’m out of practice with. It was a lovely ride though even though i dont neccesarily do a good job — just being able to be horseback makes me happy. When Inca was done riding for the day, away she walked with me — right into Sarahs lap, while she was trying to help someone else. Hahaha. This business is giving me a lot of funny stories and fond memories. Should’ve seen me trying get up on Inca this time, with Sarah giving me a leg up, i must have looked like a little monkey clingy for dear life on a branch unable to jump. Hahahahahaha. As long as they’ll put up with me — i’ll keep trying.