Picture post card it is; desirable it is not. Picture thirty-eight teenage girls stranded in a New York hotel, forced to remain inside by a blizzard and you may be coming close to the madness around me now. Who could fail to feel the desperation of girls a mere twenty minute walk from Macys, trapped instead in their rooms or an increasingly soggy lobby.

It is, though, beautiful. Snow doesn't drift in gracefully here, it is shaken forcebly from sacks just above our heads, coating everything in sight. Time continues to tick by and snow continues to fall.

Welcome to Eve's Bower

Ever since studying a book called 'Eve's Century', written by one of my university lecturers, Anne Varty, I've had this title in my head: Eve's Bower, Lost, Found and Given Away. What with the mad life of being a teacher, fiance, daughter, sister, friend etc taking over almost every waking second, any hopes of yet publishing a book of poetry and other writing under this title have become a rather small, teardrop-shaped bubble wedged in a very tiny bower of my head. This blogspot may well be my answer for now. Who knows what the future will bring though, so please don't steal my title!

Chances are I will only post small amounts of writing, whenever the world stops turning long enough for me to think but my sanity now depends on having an outlet and I hope that there will be people out there with whom I can share my thoughts.

I've been a teenager, a student, a teacher, a woman, a lover, a friend, a daughter, a sister and in all these things develped a bower for myself, both within my own head and around me. Imagine a secluded corner of a garden, enclosed by the branches of a weeping willow, entangled with roses growing up to meet its leaves, and hopefully you will see that there is a small opening where the light can filter in and my little world can be shared by anyone kind enough to take the time to gently brush aside the foliage and listen.