I feel like I'm there. I want to know more of the story. :)

You leave a curious trail of crumbs. I can see the green paint peeling off the hot tin walls, the ruffled ridges kind? Can we have a smidge of back story? Sweet torture.

simple, bare and sweet. That is what your words and photo made me think.

i feel terrible... i have just rejected 7 comments that were supposed to be published. and i accepted one comment that was supposed to be rejected.

stupid stupid stupid me!

i am terribly sorry to billy, darlene, susan, jakki,james and the others who left comments. i did not even read all of them.

i feel terrible!

and because so many of you have asked for the story behind the story...

paternoster is a seaside fishing village on the west coast of south africa. i went here for a day with my parents and we stumbled upon this little tin house.

my mom absolutely loved it. my dad put his arms around her and said to her that they could live in it when they retired.

he died a few weeks later. writing this poem i realised that this is very last time i saw my mom and dad hugging.

it is a memory i cherish.

Oh Claire,

Not "stupid" you--probably stupid me for asking you to delete that one misplaced comment. My sorry flows too.

I wondered if I had seen the image that you wrote about within your collection of photographs. And I thought it was beauty.

I promise to slow down...sorry for any mishap I may have ignited.

OK, where have I been and when did your entire blog presence change? I LOVE IT! I am so amazed! This is a beautiful site! Good for you! Hugs!

Glad you explained the "bikkie."

What a memory you've shared. I am taken away by it, and by the sounds of your poem.

couldn't love your words and images more, claire!!

just wonderful...xxo, kim

sweet , Claire. This is poignant and bittersweet .