Tiny memories from last week

So I opened the notebook but I wonder: Who am I writing to really?
Maybe I write for Addy, to make her remember to these days when she’s older. Maybe my family I miss so much, or the old friends I’ve lost touch with. Maybe a stranger will stumble across these words by accident.…Or maybe I’m writing just to myself, to catch my thoughts before they float away. Either way, I love to write.

When I was little, I’d sit in front of my grandparents’ house and record everything that happened on the street : people passing by, airplanes overhead. (I mentioned it HERE) Writing these notes still feels a bit like that: I notice, I record to then I remember.

It’s only been two weeks since I started Tide Notes, and I still smile every time I type the title. It is like tiny messages I keep putting into bottles and tossing out to the ocean. I never know if anyone will read them at all, and that’s part of the excitement.

26th October , Portishead

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the old internet, when it felt smaller, more like a cosy kitchen than a huge stadium. When people didn’t scroll past everything so quickly. When reading wasn’t felt like luxury, and sharing was about connection, not likes or reach. I miss it so much..

 Maybe writing here is my quiet rebellion of doing things in an old fashion way…Choosing to write slowly when the world keeps saying, “post more videos, and keep up with the noise on social media.” Even if it means lower chance of finding other like-minded people.

Call it a habit, or call it hope. I’ll leave these little notes behind anyway so the moments themselves can live forever.

So this week, I looked closer and i’ve collected some tiny memories that made me smile.

There’s a word In Hungarian: levél .. It means both “leaf” from the trees, and “letter.” I’ve always thought that was such a beautiful coincidence.. Maybe it’s not a coincidence at all.
Every autumn- when trees drop their leaves -it looks like they’re sending little letters to the earth. All their summer memories written in their veins.

Addy and I wandered along, stopping to watch them fall gently to the ground. One leaf floated longer than the others, spinning and twirling before landing right at our feet. We tried to catch a few, and we laughed everytime when we failed. 

“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.”
~ Albert Camus

Rain, rain, rain…….

A few rainy days followed, and I found myself watching it in the afternoons. Standing by the window, I listened to the rhythm of the world cleaning itself, raindrops racing across the pavement, forming tiny puddles. They disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

On the road…

On Thursday, we had a short ride on the Double-Decker Bus. On the top, from the front seats — of course — hidden gardens appeared behind the fences, cats sat by the window sills, and rooftops I’d never see on foot became little stories unfolding before us.

Forestbathing…

Later in the week, the tall trees caught my eyes. Some had grown so high above us. Walking under them, I felt like their long history was gently surrounding us. Now, they keep the memory of our footsteps and our laughter.

Meeting new friends…

And lastly, on Saturday morning, a few cows wandered up near the playground. Not in it, of course, but close enough to look like they were there with us. It made the landscape feel a little more alive, and certainly got us happier.

At first, I went up to the fence to take some photos. They stood still, just looking at us like they’d never seen a human before. Probably thinking the same as I did : – What curious creatures. I was watching them and took some photos.

After a while, I decided to give them some space. After all ,I didn’t want to interrupt their breakfast — it would’ve been rude. So I stepped back from the fence and turned towards the sea instead to admire the view. Such a beautiful place to play! 

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bit of movement by the fence. One brave cow had come closer, stretching her neck just enough to peek over. It looked exactly like she was doing what I had done a minute ago : observing us, but without the camera.
I suppose that’s fair play: if I can peek into their lives, they can certainly peek into ours. And not long after, the rest joined her ,one by one, all gathering at the fence, lined up like a little audience and watched us. Now WE were their morning entertainment.

So we looked at them, while they were looking at us;. Everyone was watching everyone, wondering what it’s like on the other side of the fence.

£1.89

I also bought these nice flowers yesterday. Looks so delicate and dreamy, like tiny clouds in a vase… whimsical even… Until you realise they smell so bad. It’s like nature ‘s revenge: you wanted ethereal? Enjoy the stink. 
I bought it to dry and to use it on product shoots. Beauty won again.. But I secretly hope the smell will fade.

So that’s it for now. I hope you like to read and view these small windows of mine— leaves, rain, buses, trees and cows. Maybe someone will find these little Tide Notes one day and will be inspired to pause, just for a moment, to look out their own window and notice their sunshine through the rain too.

By the way, a quick update on my recovery: it’s week 3 and the scars are healing nicely. Some of them are barely visible now so it is definitely getting better. Although it still gets sore sometime, especially if I wear a dress that’s irritating it, but I am getting there. There’s only one week left before I dive back into work.  

Thanks for reading along. Till another tide note drifts ashore,

Bernadette