A weather eye on the horizon

I am a very lucky girl sometimes. 

Of late, I have been particularly affluent to receive an exquisite gift from Mr Quinn. This, below: a stunning moleskin notebook, detailed with Smaug of the lonely mountain. 

 

Inside there is a secret compartment with a two-sided map of Tolkien's Wilderland. The skin is silky soft and the pages are ivory kissed with the richness of gold. It is flawless. There is no sharpness to it's corners; no threat of the paper attacking you with a sly, searing slice. It welcomes your need to stroke the cover and feel it brush down your fingers as you let the pages fall, reminding you of those enchanting fairytale libraries that ascent higher than the building in which they stand and your hunger to consume the infinite amount of literature.

I adore every bit of craftsmanship put into this book. Anyone who panged with jealousy as Belle entered the library of the Beast's castle will understand my appreciation. It is almost too good to write in. I mean, how could my rough scrawl possibly be worthy of such a workbench? It seems I should practice calligraphy before unleashing my unruly pen on it. And, the most baffling of things: I hadn't a clue what to write!

I graffiti on everything lately. Various notebooks, scraps of paper, envelopes etc. Every momentary thought must be captured on some surface, in some illegible writing, to be deciphered and cross referenced against other post-its later, to eventually formulate a sort-of structured sentence. Surely, I wasn't short of ideas?

The answer came off the back of a pointer given on a course I have started. It is a course on writing for children which was purchased from - now, don't you scoff you cynical cats - Groupon. Actually, it has proven itself rather insightful already, and draws you to seemingly obvious practices. For example, keeping a weather diary. Of course, I should already be doing this; noting how the sun and sky work together at different times of day, the actions and severity of different winds against plant life, the cold and warmth, and the feelings that each evoke. What better way, then, to be able to reference appropriate climate settings?

So this is what I will record in my journal. It deserves only the most idyllist and conscious writing, after all. I hope I do it justice.

Tittles and Crosses x