All sorts of weird and wonderful creatures take shelter at our home for waifs and strays and sometimes weird and wonderful things happen. Take worms for instance. You would think they would be happy to stay underground, but we’ve discovered that they often prefer the comfort of our wormery. But one day, something happened which could have resulted in a crime investigation.

     First, let me tell you what a wormery is. This is a very simple environmentally friendly home for worms. It is furnished with such things as cooked and uncooked food waste, egg cartons and shredded paper which will eventually rot down to produced black gold!  This is the highest quality compost you will ever see, plus....wait for it, the worm juice. This is a liquid feed you can use for indoor and outdoor plants. It is worth informing you at this stage in the story that a wormery does not smell, as long as you avoid putting fish in it.

     Well back to the tale! At the bottom of our wormery there’s a tap, used to collect the worm juice. I was quiet surprised at the amount of liquid feed I managed to get for our plants. I saved the first lot of liquid in a wine bottle and forgot where I put it. This did not matter, as there was plenty more to come.

     A  year later, a friend of mine dashed into our home for waifs and strays and asked if I had a bottle of wine she could take to a party. You see, the village shop was shut. She knew that my kind and unassuming husband sometimes dabbles in the making of this beverage so I shouted from upstairs that she could help herself in the usual store cupboard but I didn’t think there was any there.

      A short while later she shouted up the stairs that she‘d found a bottle and went merrily off to the party. I thought nothing more of it, until the following morning when the phone rang.

     ‘What on earth was that awful wine you gave me last night?’ It was my friend speaking.

     ‘I can’t say,’ I replied innocently, ‘I didn’t see the bottle you took.’

     ‘Well it nearly killed some of the guests!’ she sounded stressed. ‘That kind and unassuming husband of yours should take up golf and leave the winemaking alone!’

     I was shocked to hear her talk of my dear husband in such a way. I have never participated in the drinking of alcohol so I could not say if it was good or not. Before I could say another word she continued.

     ‘I tried adding lemonade to it but quite frankly it stunk worse than anything I have ever smelt before. I think it was poison!’

     I suddenly remembered where I had put the worm juice!

She hangs like a pendulum in the night sky and sometimes you will see her still hanging out there with her friend the Sun, during the day. Now Little Miss Lunar (as I always call her) or better known as The Moon, is 4.5 billion years old and is our closest and most admired neighbour.   

      Whilst walking on the cliffs one day, I saw Little Miss Lunar hanging there all silent and mysterious and I stood quite some time watching her, watching me back. I remembered a story my father once told me one night as we sat watching the Moon from our porch.

       ‘Those are known as seas,’ he told me, pointing out the dark areas. ‘They have Latin names such as Mare Serenitatis (the Sea of Serenity) and Mare Frigoris (the Sea of cold).’

       I can see him now, turning to look at me, watching for my reaction. As always, I listened intensely with eyes wide open.

       ‘They are not seas of course,’ he said frowning, and I shook my head as if I already knew that but I didn’t, you see, I was only seven at the time.    

       ‘Well as you know,’ he said, ‘they are large areas of smooth dark lava.’ I nodded and smiled up at Little Miss Lunar.

      That night, my father told me all about Little Miss Lunar and how she had many faces with different names. I remember thinking that I would like to be the Moon and change the shape of my face from time to time. My Father used to call me Waterworks as I was either crying or laughing, nothing in-between. So, if I was like Miss Lunar, then I would wear a smile all of the time. I think I would have found that quiet difficult, as not all things pleased me, especially school.

     He told me that the Moon we could see was the large Harvest Moon and that the full moon had a sort of magical phenomena and could be the reason why I had trouble sleeping. This didn’t make any sense to me but I said nothing.  He talked about the Waxing Moon and the Waxing Gibbous Moon. Then he told me that I would have to fly 239,000 miles if I wanted to sit on the Moon. I didn’t think I wanted to sit on the moon and anyway, I reminded him that although grandmother said I was an Angel, I did not have wings.

    But what I remember most about that conversation with my father was the bit about the Moon being a crescent and illuminated by the Sun.

      ‘If you look closely at that Moon,’ he said smiling down at me, ‘you will see the shadow of the rest of the Moon.’ Then he took my hand and said ‘this is sometimes called ‘the old Moon in the new Moon’s arms!’

      I loved that saying, I imagined myself holding my mother in my arms and telling her how much I loved her!  

What better way to spend Sunday lunchtime than in the quaint little bookshop ‘Cover to Cover’ in the seaside village of Mumbles today? And what made it all the more interesting was their guest author and illustrator, Jackie Morris.

     Jackie was surrounded by her incredible books which oozed atmosphere and empathy and cried out to be touched and read. I have to admit that my favourite is The seal children but Something about a bear and Snow leopard, tie for second place with I am cat as good as any cat books I have ever seen. It was an absolute pleasure to meet such a talented and laid back artist. Thank you Cover to Cover, your bookshop is amazing too and well worth a visit.

     Until 13th January, Jackie will be exhibiting work at the National Botanic Gardens of Wales, near Carmarthen in Wales. Well worth a visit!

Even when no boat floats upon it and no fish can be seen, and even if the water is as smooth as a millpond, it still has the power to draw one to it.

     The original name for the Pacific Ocean was ‘peaceful sea’ and although at times this isn’t the case, there is a certain aura of both peacefulness and power about it. It has the power to give and the power to take away.

      Below this surface that we often stare at with little thought, lay thousands of islands, volcanoes, valleys and the longest mountain range on Earth, known as The Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Indeed, another world full of mystery, a world full of life we have yet to discover.

      But we do know that the largest animal ever to have lived on this planet, lives beneath this water we love to stare at. The Blue whale, (Balaenoptera musculus) is around 30 metres in length and weighs 170 tonnes or more.  Her voice is louder than a jet and her heart is about the size of a Volkswagen beetle, how amazing is that?  

      So it is no wonder we stare at this magnitude of water that covers 70% of our planet. The sheer size of it is enough to make anyone feel in awe of its vastness. From its gentle ripples to its tsunamis, this part of our planet will always be something to watch, to listen to, to be mindful of.  

      For me, standing at the water’s edge, drinking in the fresh salty air, allows me to think or to meditate and not think at all. If I’m sad, its endless murmur soothes me, but always, it revitalises my soul. 

‘We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch-we are going back from whence we came.’

John F Kennedy

Quite often when I am working at the hospital, I gaze momentarily out of the window at the sea in the distance and long for my bench by the pond. I can almost taste the sweet tea as I imagine sitting there...waiting...watching ...for nothing in particular but aware, nevertheless, that at any moment I could see something amazing.

     Perhaps I have an overload of imagination. I can see why some people can turn a molehill into a mountain, as I certainly can, according to my kind an unassuming husband. What I can’t understand is what do people think about if their head is lacking this substance. 

      If you know anyone who hasn’t any imagination and you think that they could benefit from some, let me tell you a simple way in which to do this.

      First, you read to them! You tell them stories and you will evoke in them, pictures in their heads. They will see places they have never seen before and hear words they never knew. They will bring to life a part of themselves that had been hidden from view. Similar to opening a door that had been locked all of its life. Now throw away that key!

       I quite often find that my imagination enables me to escape from life if I need too. As a chemotherapy nurse, I used to use my imagination more frequently, to help cope with the demands of my job.

       So by encouraging people to use their minds as eyes, by listen to stories or tales, you are developing their skills to cope with life in difficult situations.

       Mr Einstein once said “Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge,’ he said, ‘is limited. Imagination encircles the world!’

       So next time I gaze out of the window and imagine my bench by the pond , I will taste my cup of sweet tea and think of Mr Einstein. I will smile to myself and remember the meaning of his words. To imagine, is to switch the light on and look at the world!