Sheep at Christmas dinner.
A hundred years ago this silted up waterway was a thriving industrial thoroughfare. Now it is home to ducks and fishes in tranquility.
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In the Fairy Glen we imagine faces looking on.
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The path to Welcombe beach North Devon. A coastline where sea caves and ship wrecks paint a wild history.
And we think we're watching them !
" No, no, I said I was interested in short tales !" 
The great story of Lorna Doone started here. Malmsmead, North Devon.
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Appledore from Instow. Separated by a river along which much history has flowed.
We aim to please.
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Snow and sky near Thor's Cave, Derbyshire 2015
The dark earthworks on the horizon were defended by the Anglo-Saxons. The Vikings attacked but failed to overcome.
It is said that this battle saved King Alfred's bacon ...not to worry that he burnt the cakes.
Rugged North Cornwall coast. St Gennys.
Would the wolf's eyes still be closed if we had not come in with the lamp?
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Discovery can be such fun. Do some yourself.
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Autumn visits the Lyn valley . . . and so do I.
Evening magic at the well.
RHS Rosemoor.
December 2007 in China, a martial arts camp in the Sanqing mountains . . . freezing fog and more meat on the passing rats than on the table . . . a saga in itself as yet untold.
We never can be sure what it is we look at . . . or what it is we 'see'. This is a photo of a wax painting in turn produced from the imagination of a young lady called Clare many years ago. We can now observe the picture and allow our own imagination to bear fruit.
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Clicking on poppy takes you to another story of sacrifice
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
McCrae
Many of these stories are written within walking distance of the beautiful Bideford Bay, North Devon Coast.
Photo shows the remnants of a storm that crossed the Atlantic to show us what it still could do. Amazing nature October 2014.
This is here because we all have them. Some we see, some we follow. Mostly we don't.
 On reflection.
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Fishermen cast their lines as sunshine kisses the Northern edge of Lundy Island.
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Each journey and its first step. . . each story and its first word. A word that begins your adventure into your own spirit world of discovery.
I recently read that a handful of darkness taken into a room does not dispel the light but a handful of light taken into a room illuminates all, pushing back the darkness into shadows. So it is I hope with my stories. I hope you find it just so. Sometimes we'll find something in the shadows too !
"Stories on which the Sun will never set."
RHS Rosemoor sun dial
July 2014
The reality behind the written word. Martial arts are still a part of my life through the tai chi and through the Aiki Jo. If you want to know more, go to the links page where you can take a cyber trip to these arts.
Elsa the Golden Labrador races for home, not wishing to miss her favourite author visiting.
Good dog Elsa, discerning literary critic.
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There's magic in nature.
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Whose plane? Where's it going? Where from? What lake? Which country? What made the ripples, fish, bird or mammal? What time is it? How deep the lake? How high the mountains?
Beyond the gate, the view.
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Evocative words by the great Kahlil Gibran. One of the most colourful and inspirational of writers ever. I am grateful to him for his sharing.
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Illusion, another world or just a mistake, we often never tell the difference.
Photo above taken some 14 years after the story. Both boots and wearer looked for the fateful spot but low cloud obscured Swirral Edge. Perhaps it was best this way.
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River East Lyn in spate Jan 2014.
The photo can speak its own story to your imagination.
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I could tell you a winter's tale
The beginnings of Swirral Edge towards Helvellyn. there are many ways to climb. . . and many ways to fall
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Later years and training at Fire Service Technical College.
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When we come to a bridge, as we might, should we cross it?
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Appledore; shelter from the storm.
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The view across the Atlantic from the beach between Rat Island and Lundy. September 2013
We see many Sunsets, few see the Sun rise.
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One day the lamp will not be lit again.
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Elsa is on a mission, had her early morning constitutional and now wants to get home lay on a sun lounger and read some of her friend's good stories.
This book changed hands aboard this flight from Kefalonia. Happy reading.
One of the boat courses we ran. . . note the water taken on board. Too risky to come alongside the jetty we beached the boats... it was a great day, great students .... exciting weather.
All existence disappears when the mind ceases. .........................Existence is merely a perception of what we think it is. ...........While we can think, it exists.
From Countisbury hill in the sunshine my good wishes to all.
The sheer magic of the natural world yet so much still is hidden from view, not only from the eyes but deeper still the soul..
Early morning light awakes the sleeping forest.
Somewhere in Austria
No one is truly lost, that finds themselves. Time will decide when our journey is over but we decide how far we travelled.
The spark; it is a transient glimmer of hope in a darkening world. A spark can change the world. The spark of intuition can change yours too.
They wait, lifeless. . . until the tide returns.
Sunrise on the River Taw near Rock Park
Just as the candle's aura illuminates the darkness so the stories light the way for a soul lost in the mists. Both the light and the words reach out for you.
Fremington Quay. Shows the tidal range North Devon enjoys. A fisherman takes advantage of low tide to dig for worms.
The perfect place for your soul to meet and walk a while with another.
It is all illusion. When you look in the mirror you see an illusion.
Worth a few moments staring. . . just to see the faces in the clouds.
An August sunset at Appledore.
A place which features more than once in the pages of the book of short stories.
"With this storm coming I just can't wait to get home and read Richard's new book. . . I wonder if I'm in it."
Canine Critic solves the puzzle.
My old pal, 'Rupert', resting in the shade of his garden. ... and may I say what a good choice of reading material.
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Typical fire gear of 1974 era.
23rd June 2012 Bideford pannier market
North of Hartland point signs that long, long ago the world once changed and in the rock pool another world that changes twice a day.
Trust in yourself. . . and not the fence.
June flowers look down river to Instow, Appledore and the sea.
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An old house that will have seen many summers, a home, many lives.
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Herein lies the Yin and Yang, the high and low, dark and light, active and passive; blending in perfect harmony they are not so much opposites as partners in our existence.
"Beyond the Spirit Seas and Mountains the answer sleeps; Put one foot in front of the other and go and wake it up." |
A frozen river somewhere in Russia.
That's what you call a river . . . and that's what you call frozen.
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“Only as far as you seek shall you go. Only as much as you dream can you be.”
Where to start? Where to finish? Some of life’s journeys are planned and others not, so we shall start with the first step and begin the exploration without worrying overmuch of our direction. Only to know that there is somewhere out there worthwhile of our effort.
Surely in all of us there must be something of the adventurer, warrior, and philosopher; in all of us a curiosity to know ourselves; to step out of our sheltered place and into a wilder, grander world, to feel the wind and hear the sound of boots on snow, to feel the sun and watch the eagle fly. To enjoy the pleasurable fatigue of the honourable toil of journeys well made. To tell our tale and relive the feeling of our day, no matter success or loss, for those that tried can only win.
So, why not dig out your boots, thick coat and waterproofs, fill your flask, make your sandwiches and come on some travels with me.
Richard Small
Watery Graveyard ... yet still visited daily by the tide
In the footsteps of my ancestors, looking for a sign - if there'll be one it will come from within - for they live there still.
A journey into the dark so that the inner light may be seen.
Boots and feet often photographed for a collection of walking stories I once planned, simply called 'The Rise and Fall of Ten Little Piggies'. Photo somewhere near Boscastle.
