Roberta Writes – d’Verse, Esther Chilton’s writing challenge & Flower Hour #poetry #photography #flowers

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Esther Chilton’s challenge word for this week is edge. You can join in here: https://estherchilton.co.uk/2025/10/29/word-prompts/

Mining for Clay (shadorma prose)

When I was nine, my family moved to George in the Western Cape for the first time. It was supposed to be a permanent move, but my father hated the year-round rain, so we only stayed in this town for six weeks before moving on to Cape Town. Mom was due to give birth to our youngest sister, Laura, so Cath, Hayley and I were sent ahead to live with our grandparents. Granddad Jack came to fetch us three girls in his old hatchback, but I don’t remember anything about the journey.

When we arrived, Granny Joan was entirely consumed with looking after Hayley who was only thirteen-months old. She was a difficult toddler and refused to eat, a terrible problem for Granny who believed in stuffing children with food all day long. Good food was necessary for children to grow up strong and able to fight off illness and diseases. Cath and I were happy as we got to run wild and get up to whatever mischief I thought up.

One of my grand ideas was to mine for clay in the ditches that ran along the edges of all the dirt roads leading out of the town. Granny and Granddad’s home was reached by one of these dirt roads at that time because they lived close to the start of the forest.

On the afternoon of the great clay mining, Cath and I spent the entire afternoon digging clay out of the ditches with sharp sticks. We stored it in a plastic shopping bag I’d ‘borrowed’ for this purpose. We had to be home by 5pm and when we arrived, Granny took one look at us and started shouting. We were filthy. We had clay all over our dresses, in our hair, and all over our arms legs and faces. Fortunately, I’d seen fit to climb into the ditches shoeless, so our shoes were not full of mud. We were instructed to go to the bottom of the garden and wash ourselves, our clothes and our hair with cold water from the hosepipe. I’ll never forget, five-year-old, Cath, shrieking with displeasure at being squirted down with cold water.

Despite being in trouble over letting my little sister get so dirty and wet, I was thrilled with the clay we had gathered. Cath and I, with Granny’s permission and Granddad’s supervision, spent every afternoon for the next few weeks creating an assortment of ‘ceramic’ goods from this clay. We made baskets filled with fruit, plates, cups, a teapot, and several other interesting figures and creations. Granddad told us to line our artworks up on the step so they could dry in the sun. Once dried, he provided us with some paints and paintbrushes so we could decorate them in vivid colours.

I think Granny was pleased to have us gainfully occupied in the backyard for this time and not running amok ‘looking for trouble’.

young artists

creating artworks from clay

gleefully mined

from ditches

poor Granny had her hands full

looking after us

d’Verse

De Jackson’s d’Verse prompt is to use whirl in a quadrille poem of exactly 44 words. You can join in here: https://dversepoets.com/2025/11/03/quadrille-235-take-your-poem-for-a-whirl-around-the-block/

Spring Cryoconite

sidewalks and streets filled with purple

swirling and whirling in strong, spring winds

fat blossoms pop loudly under feet and tyres

treacherous November brings heavy rains

beauty transforms into saturated mounds

colour metamorphosizing to a purple so dark

it could almost pass as cryoconite 1

1 cryoconite is the name for black snow falling on land that is composed of dust and soot caused by forest fires and man-made global warming factors

The Flower Hour

Terri is hosting a Flower Hour challenge which you can join in here: https://secondwindleisure.com/2025/10/28/the-flower-hour-sunflowers-fade-to-black/

Picture caption: This is the jasmine this year. It smells divine.
Picture caption: I found another smashing bougainvillea bush. This one is orange to me. Michael says its red. We were coming back from our Saturday art class, and I told him I need to drive to the park to get a picture of this bush. He actually laughed. I asked if he didn’t think that was weird and he said “No, Mom, you always stop to take photographs in funny places.” Poor boy has been conditioned to my weirdness.
Picture caption: the entire bougainvillea bush. Or it could be a tree – doesn’t anyone know?
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Published by robertawrites235681907

I am a writer of young adult fiction and poetry

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75 thoughts on “Roberta Writes – d’Verse, Esther Chilton’s writing challenge & Flower Hour #poetry #photography #flowers”

  4. What adventures you had playing with the clay, Robbie! I think every kid played in the dirt (I did, too)! Beautiful poem! I can smell the jasmine from here. That bougainvillea is amazing! You must have a similar climate to San Diego, California. Both those flowers grow there profusely, along with jacaranda. Thanks for linking to The Flower Hour!

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  12. What a brilliant post. First of I loved the story and poem from your childhood- you know I will be savoring every word when you post on this topic. Then I never heard of cryoconite – as we have never had both a wildfire and a snowstorm in the same season- but it was very interesting to find out that it is a possibility.

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  13. What fun you had with your sisters. As a grandparent I do have some sympathy for your poor grandmother, looking after young grandchildren is somehow more scary than one’s own were !

    That was very impressive pottery.

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  16. Don`t ask my about the metric, Robbie! That a great secret to me. But the poems are wonderful and creating colorful and interesting images in my mind. The story about your childhood is also fantastic and show how important it is giving children enough freetime to evolve their skills. Now i know better why are you such an great multisided artist. Best wishes, Michael

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  21. That’s a great story Robbie. And I like how your grandfather turned it into a creative and productive activity. Taking care of three young energetic children is not for the faint of heart. (K)

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  27. I love the story of you and your sister mining clay. My daughter still does this. We have lots of sweet jasmine growing here and it smells wonderful. Bougainvillea is everywhere here too. That plant is an orangey-red.

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  29. I enjoyed this story, and can picture you and your sister covered in clay. Despite the cold wash, you got to use the clay to make artifacts and paint them. Such a great memory, Robbie.

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  30. Lovely story and poems. I too with my sister got into trouble for making mud pies. We had visited our grandparents in their country home – our cousins weren’t in and the adults wanted to talk in private. What ever did they expect us o do? At least we weren’t scolded to badly, hosed off and were allowed back inside 🙂

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  31. I really enjoyed this, Robbie — both the clay-digging memory and the “Spring Cryoconite” imagery. That line “swirling and whirling in strong, spring winds” feels so alive!

    ~David

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