Swan-d-ful — photographs of local swans.

There is something incredibly graceful about swans. They have a perfect simplicity of colour, shape and movement. They inspire peace and tranquility when problems disturb the soul. When I was a child I was forever drawing them — chalk on a blackboard or with pencil. Then I tried using my simple paint box and painted a swan drifting in moonlight. I guess, later on, going to the theatre Royal in Nottingham to see the Swan Lake ballet (sitting up in the gods) a number of times climaxed that fascination. At that time I wanted to be a ballet dancer! But that was long ago. Now I just like to photograph them, not be one of them!

See also
Gladys Hobson — author
Diary Of a Country Lady
Wrinkly Writers - my life is an open book
Yesteryear — any questions?
Gladys Hobson - My Space
Magpies Nest Publishing

USA editions of my books can be found at AGPress bookstore

When All Seems Dark

There are times in life when all seems dark and pointless.
Tragedy hits millions of people in distant lands. Just when the mind and heart has taken in the enormity of what has happened, death in thousands strikes again, and again, and again. But, unless personally involved, that is the backcloth to daily living.
We do what we can and put the horror to the back of our minds. After all, personal issues, so small in comparison, have to be dealt with with day by day. For some, sickness or loss of loved ones, for others loss of job, or death of ambition. But how does anyone deal with horrific incidents involving innocent children? How do children recover from heart-breaking cruelty? Cruelty that children all over the world endure day after day?

But there IS light and love in the world. It comes creeping in when we least expect it. Nothing is certain in life, except death, but in small ways each of us can make a difference. Often, it is in little acts of kindness that we are surprised by joy. It is true that in giving We receive. Light breaks through the dark clouds. Spring is on its way.

Poem… I Stood By The Gate

I stood by the gate,
And my mind wandered
Beyond the sheep so quietly grazing,
In fields rich green,
To mountains wrapped in mist and cloud
That hugged them like a corpse's shroud,
And there I felt tranquility
That travels through eternity
And draws us to another place
Beyond that of the human race,
Where all is quiet, all serene
And mortals felt but never seen:
A place of spirit not of flesh
And only can be reached through death
Of all that hinders
This clairvoyant view of Paradise…


Gladys Hobson (Aug 2008)

Click here for free samples of my writing (own and pen names)
and here for my wordpress blog
And you can read, or hear me read, some of my short stories by clicking here.