Walking this morning, I spotted some wool, I think, in the hedge. It must be from a wooly dog as sheep don’t come along this way! I loved the way the drops of dew had gathered in the strands.
In a conversation with Judy of Newenglandgardenandthread this afternoon, I found myself quoting words (referring to technology rather than a little girl) that were spoken to me many times as a child when I was being less than my lovely smiley self! I looked them up and found this little poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. (American poet, 1807-1882)
There was a little girl, who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead,
And when she was good, she was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.She stood on her head, on her little trundle bed,
With nobody by for to hinder;
She screamed and she squalled, she yelled and she bawled,
And drummed her little heels against the winder.Her mother heard the noise, and thought it was the boys
Playing in the empty attic,
She rushed upstairs, and caught her unawares,
And spanked her, most emphatic.
I only remember the first verse being used and I used to join in with the reprimand finding it amusing and a bit of a challenge!
This afternoon I have finished my Jolabokaflod book, Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell. Oh, what a story, what beautiful writing, what evocative descriptions! I was sorry to come to the end and can wholly recommend it – just have a box of tissues nearby. Being the mother of twins myself, there were parts I found completely heartbreaking.
