On the other side of the turnstile

What becomes of the broken-hearted?
There is probably one standing next to you at the check-out, sitting in the car behind you at the lights, laughing with you over coffee or sleeping beside you.
As far as the wounds of life go, a shattered heart is the pits. Achingly, despairingly bad.
Getting over it is like being forced to ride a dodgy roller-coaster. Just when you think the lurching is over, the momentum builds to take another sickening bend.
Worried loved ones on the ground can only watch, willing you to keep your nerve.
Once you finally get off the hellish ride, and slap down the good-for-nothing clown who bought you the ticket in the first place, you rush for the exit.
What a relief to find the gate still open.
The turnstile of life has let you out.
Wandering home with your heart in your hands you vow to never return to that fun fair. It was neither fun nor fair.
In a few days you might have a closer look at your heart. Still beating? Check; Happy to be home? Check; Stopped bleeding? Check ... but there are a few scars; Fierce? Hell yeah!
It's the same dear heart, but different.
Some decide to wear their heart on their sleeve. Others put it back where it belongs – close ... maybe closer than it ever was. That way they'll hear when it whispers what it has learnt.
Its wisdom will be your beautiful secret.
Then, one fine day, you'll realise the ghost train of your past love has left the station.
But you'll pay the thought little mind.
You'll be in a place far, far away ... your own tunnel of love.

Her name is mud

10.30am: Wash pups Daisy and Poppy.
10.45am: Clean pair released into the sun to dry.
10.46am: One still fresh as a Daisy.
10.47am: The other found giving herself a victorious "paws up" after dirt bath under the house.
Dirty play = clean win ... in Poppy's world.

Hello happiness

Look who I found outside my gate waiting patiently to come in.
I don't know how he got here. It doesn't really matter. He is here.
Hopefully he will stay awhile.
Happiness is here, I just had to open the gate.

It started with some bliss

 

So how did this merry dance begin? I simply looked up. My dance card was full this sunny day with all manner of familiar steps. First step: park car. Second: coffee. Third shopping. No twirls, no twists.
Then, in one unexpected move, my focus shifted from the grey concrete car park to this. It took my breath away ... still does. An eruption of beauty. Its loveliness could never be contained.
"Take note Petal, the season's turned. Time is ripe," these beauties said.
These little  pink show offs really knew how to turn a girl's head.
Promise - may it bloom and grow forever.