Tag: fiona jones

As Forest

This was our territory once. Every lifetime our places and times of day diminish, but as long as food sources remain plentiful we will stay here and adapt — learning to cross carefully the hard grey roadways and the daylight hours, the noise and…

Ice and Vapour

Water doesn’t like being liquid. It much prefers its other forms — the ice of a comet or its vapour trail. Water flips through a single change of state at indeterminate temperature, and changes back again at will. But the Earth with its gravity…

Fireweed

Equinox Series graphic

You never notice it until the middle of summer, when the magenta flower-spikes suddenly crowd every roadside and wasteland…once they have outgrown grass and nettles, and stand tall above the lesser whites and yellows of daisies, dandelions, clovers. In Britain we call it rosebay…

Fossils

Equinox Series graphic

Out the back road of Charlestown, down a steep hill, across a disused railway, around a rough-brambled coastline and under the line of high tide: layers of grey mudstone, semi-eroded, open to the touch and tell their story. Some layers say little. Others retain…

Four Leafed Clover

stylized overhead photo of a woodland trail

Three, they say, is the largest number you’ll never need to count. Your eyes decide the Threeness or Unthreeness of things at a glance, along with Twoness, Oneness, Zeroality. Fourness and everything above is different, except when patterned like the spots on ladybirds and…

Announcing Our 2018 Regular Contributors

shorebirds wading in waves

We are thrilled to announce the return of our “Regular Contributor” designation for writers who frequently publish work on our blog and actively participate in the Folded Word community as a whole. Our 2018 Regular Contributors will be given special publication and promotion opportunities…

Beached Whale

abstract of water rushing over a rock that looks like a skull

She made a mistake, and died from it, sinking into the spongy, bubbling sand on the Atlantic shore of Colonsay. Careless, injured or impaired, old or tired, she came inshore too far and lost the tide, hemmed in between dune and sandbank and outcropping…

If You Had Eyes

the bumpy texture of old stump pith

If you had eyes, you would stare slowly, very slowly, upwards at the many shades of green and the single blue. Even without eyes, you sense the blue and reach towards it. You expand in the warmth and drink in air and light. These…

Someone Lived Here

Solstice Series Selection Summer 2018

Someone lived here once. Someone, long forgotten, subdued this ground, stacking stone and wood and straw in rectangular constructions — a dwelling-place, with stable or cowshed. Someone beat back the yearly incursion of brambles and saplings to keep a vegetable garden or a chicken…