Thursday, April 1, 2010

#fridayflash - Snow In The Bush

Warm out.

Late afternoon. 26 degrees.

Too warm for the end of March.

“In like a lamb. Out like a lamb,” says the wistful Laila, gliding through the bush. The sunshine sets her swirl of white skirt to cotton flame and she glows as she steps lightly over the brown powdery leaf litter carpeting last autumn’s forest floor.

Spring’s earthy taste, a pinot gris, light as pale lemon, lingers sweet on Laila as she walks through the forest.

A fine dew draws upon her brow and her upper lip.

“Too warm,” she sighs.

Golden sunlight paints her daffodil hair, warms her apricot cheeks, lights the fine hairs of her bare arms like filaments.

The snow in the bush is white fire amidst the brown.

It is untouched. Pristine. White diamonds sparkle on its melting crust.

“Ah,” Laila whispers.

She lays down in the snow and closes her eyes.

The cool white is cold fire on her back.

The warm sun is snug fire on her front.

She opens her china eyes and watches clouds puff across a canvas of cornflower.

She watches the sky until the sun sets and the nasal call of a nighthawk wakes her from her unconscious duality.

When she gets up to go, the outline of her body is melted into what is left of winter’s snow.

“Winter is dead,” says the wise Laila, gliding through forest as sacred as home.

Her skirt shines in the moonlight.


  1. Beautiful. So many lines to linger over, so I will... Peace, Linda

  2. And long live winter!

    Very nicely written, Ms. Olliffe.

  3. Lovely...
    Your descriptions placed me right beside her (although I was shivering)

  4. These beautiful words lulled me into a serenity of appreciation for the images they brought.

    Love the juxtaposition of beginning with a wistful Laila, and ending with a wise one.

  5. Your descriptions are vived and colourful. A nice commentary on the unseasonably warm weather you're having right now.

  6. Somebody's stretching her muscles. ;-) Yes, a lovely departure and something I look forward to more of. "Cold fire" is spectacular. Loved it.

    The only solace I take in winter being dead, is that it will be re-born.

  7. "She opens her china eyes and watches clouds puff across a canvas of cornflower."

    This keeps sticking in my head - lovely work here. Ditto what Mark (Man Island) said :)

  8. Such an evocative use of words. Just splendid!

  9. Wonderful meditation. Thank you.

    marc nash

  10. Utterly spellbinding. Intensely visual, Cathy, a painting in rich and luminous hues, but you've woven smells and tastes and nasal sounds into this beauty too.

    Yes. This is gorgeous art. Bravo.

  11. "like filaments" - awesome
    I thought the weather was meant to be colder over in Canada than UK - we haven't had the "too warm" stage yet!
    Lovely, lovely piece

    EDIT: CAPTCHA was "fircuffl" - the opposite of a kerfuffle...?

  12. Beautiful descriptions, Cathy. This was a treat for the senses. I like this part in particular - "She watches the sky until the sun sets and the nasal call of a nighthawk wakes her from her unconscious duality."


  13. I went back to see the post "Stupid Women". Just wanted to make sure I was at the right place. I like the 'corncrake' and the 'unconscious duality' lines in particular. Lovely piece.

  14. Such beautiful lines to linger over in this story of seasons changing. I also love the "unconscious duality" it made me pause and smile.


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