This poem amused me, based on truth as it is!
Reading is a great consolation.
More sun today! Porthtowan was our destination for a bitterly cold walk along the beach, arriving through the valley past the old workings of the Tywarnhayle Copper Mines.
The sun came out late this afternoon, for the first time in many days, so off we went to the coast for a glimpse of the ocean. The bright gold of the Gorse was lovely in the fading light having a glow all of its own.
The glow of sunset clouds is always a joy.
As we have taken all the cards etc down we have found the perfect space for a beautiful little painting which came as a Christmas present, a delightful reminder of our holiday in Monument Valley. Our friends watched the painting being done and thought of us!
The Christmas Angels are still flying in our lovely small town of Redruth.
We’ve been tidying away all the Christmas things today, among them, this beautiful bowl with its matching ladle. We always use it for bread sauce for Christmas dinner. It is the last piece of a dinner service that my Mum and Dad were given as a Wedding present in 1939 so is a very special treasure to me.
I have loved myths and legends since I was very young so to be given Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology for Christmas was a real treat. I have so enjoyed reading these tales again and loved this fresh interpretation.
Inspired by a couple of blogging pals, I have decided to join in on Six on Saturday.which looks like fun, especially for those of us who love our gardens. My six are all foliage in our garden today, some especially for Piglet in Portugal as they are relevant to her post where she talks about Agapanthus.
1. We grown most of ours in pots as we read that they like crowded roots but the ones in the ground do well too. They grow in profusion all around Cornwall but not as wildly as in South Africa.
2 Piglet was also asking about hedges. We have two of Pittosporum Tenufolium – in the back, a lovely light hedge of the variegated version. I love the speckle effect and the pink/cream borders to the crinkly leaves. It has tiny red/brown flowers too in late Spring/ early Summer but they are so small they are easily missed. You can see a flower here taken in 2016.
3. Mixed in with this we have a few of the ordinary green one.
4. In the front garden, behind the Himalayan Birch, we grow the Tom Thumb version which has the same delightful wavy leaves but they are dark purple and come from black stems – very dramatic. The light has made it look quite pink. It is much darker than it appears here.
5. One of the Clematis that grows up the trellis has turned a glorious bronze colour not unlike Copper Beech.
6. The last in today’s six is in my shade garden along with lots of ferns. Sadly, I have lost the label and forgotten its name……..
Last morning for the LiveWires to be here and T wanted to learn how to knit. She made excellent progress in the short time we had.
This afternoon I had repeat steroid injections in both ankles. The last ones I had were last February and they lasted many months giving me pain free ankles. Here’s hoping these do too.
It’s still very early in this new year of 2019 so here is another appropriate poem for you.
The Year – Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That’s not been said a thousand times?The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that’s the burden of the year.
Beach with the LiveWires this morning was cold but fun.
I was sent this thoughtful New Year poem as a present this morning with permission to publish here if I wished. I do – so here it is for you to enjoy as well.
Poem for the new year (1995)
No more haunted houses,
stale-breathed walls
No more picking our way
around scrabbled ruins, choked
by the hold of generations
No more drawing at dry wells,
weaving whole cloth from
rags, brilliant
with their years and stories.
That’s right – begin here,
with the awe of
a new imagination,
a life still dangerously fresh,
precariously pink
at the bone,
a peach skin split,
flesh free from the stone,
juice drumming urgent
through your fingers –
begin with this.c Karen Mittelman
We’ve had a fabulous day full of adventures at The Eden Project. Here’s a gallery of some of our day.