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Monthly Archives: July 2025

The Grand Canyon North Rim

We are very sad to hear of the fire, Dragon Bravo Fire ,at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Here is a view of the canyon from near our cabin on the North Rim in 2016.

Two more views from that holiday.

6 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 21, 2025 in America, environment, Postaday2025, Uncategorized

Tags: Dragon Bravo Fire

The Golden Hour

20 Jul

I just went to the kitchen and the whole back garden was glowing in the last of the evening sunshine.

4 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 20, 2025 in Cornwall, environment, garden, Postaday2025

Last week I wrote of my sadness at the daeth of a wonderful poet, Andrea Gibson and yesterday I read this beautiful tribute to them, The writer, D.L. White very kindly gave me permission to share it with you all.

·

I’m making my son’s lunch when I find out you’ve died—cutting up carrot and cucumber, while crying.

He tilts his tiny head, furrows his precious brow, and asks me, “Daddy, are you alright?”

And I remember what you said about truth:

“even when the truth

isn’t hopeful

the telling of it is”

So, I tell him, no, I’m not alright—

a poetry angel has taken flight,

and daddy is very sad about it.

I know it sounds far-fetched but

I think he understands—

in the way trees understand soil.

He opens his arms wide as a bridge

and lunges for a hug.

And I remember what you said about heartbeats:

“If you were to press your heart close up against somebody else’s heart eventually your hearts will start beating at the same time.”

I feel a desperate instinct to retreat. Take my sorrow to the spare room, close the curtains, turn off the lights, hide from anyone who might dare to care about me. To lick at my collection of wounds, tired and alone.

But I remember what you said about relationships:

“…We gather each other up.

We say, the cup is half

yours and half mine.

We say alone is the last place you will ever be.”

I call my wife and tell her about a growing ache in my stomach; how unfair it is that a poet of such monumental importance now only exists in memories.

But she reminds me what you said about death:

“Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples. I am more with you than I ever was before.”

My heart swells grateful as I realise you’re not gone—you’re still right here! In books on my shelf, videos in my feed, words etched in my skull, hope echoing through my bones. You’re still here—more than ever!

How lucky I am—how privileged we all are—to have glimpsed your soul through a miraculous lens, a pen dipped in cosmic ink, a voice so authentic it could have been wombed in stars, an immutable spirit set wild and free.

How inspiring. How wonderfully inspiring you are.

I flick through your books, too afraid to land on a single page, in case the words spontaneously combust upon reading; or sprout wings, escape their paper prison to be free—as words should be—with you in the afterwards.

But what I’m most afraid of is the words won’t be the same shape ever again. That the weight of loss presses them into crueler, cruder, angrier creatures; that the meaning will be tainted by mourning.

I feel a tension in the meat of my heart, not a rip or tear, but the start of a long pull—when it releases the flesh will be softer, slacker.

And I remember what you said about hearts:

“In the end, I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks.”

I ideate myself out of existence—

as I often do when down dark. The tricksy little imp, whispering from the back seat, implores me to spin the car off a cliff—to join you.

And I remember what you said about grief:

“That every falling leaf is a tiny kite

with a string too small to see, held

by the part of me in charge

of making beauty

out of grief.”

So I’m writing. I don’t know if it’s beautful yet. Not the way you are. Your consonants dance with your vowels, your sentences have curves and edges, your poetry can sail a ship or bend a spine, dress a wound or slice the moon, while mine seem edgeless by comparison.

And I remember what you said about creating:

“We have to create. It’s the only thing louder than destruction.”

So today, like millions of others whose hearts you squeezed, I’ll create, so that I’m not destroyed. And I’ll let my heart break…

Because I remember what you said about breaking hearts:

“Let your heart break so your spirit doesn’t.”

Thank you for letting me share this beautiful piece. I have printed it to put on the wall in our kitchen.

4 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 19, 2025 in Postaday2025, Uncategorized

Tags: D. L. White author

Window Box

18 Jul

I took this photo of a luscious and colourful window box in Truro last week.
Today I have taken no photos having been at one hospital or another all day! I was lucky enough to be called for my hip injection for today In Hayle and after that I’ve spent the rest of the time in Truro with my lovely Mr S as the physios got him walking. As I wasn’t allowed to drive after the injection, our dear daughter who lives in Exeter came down for the day and, as well as being able to visit, drove me around. She’s coming back next week to look after us both.

7 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 18, 2025 in Uncategorized

News, Raindrops and Cake

17 Jul

Mr S is out of surgery and we are told it all went well. Thank you for the good wishes so many of you lovely readers sent for him. He is very touched by your care.

Raindrops yesterday

Lemon and chocolate chip cake made yesterday for a Corporate Day at Roots today.

7 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 17, 2025 in baking, environment, garden, nature, Postaday2025, Uncategorized

Exhibition in Truro Museum and Art Gallery

16 Jul

We had a treat today as tomorrow my lovely Mr S goes into hospital for a TKR, total knee replacement, so we’ll be at home for a few weeks as he recovers. I may not post every day over the next few weeks.
The exhibition, Exploring Time, is the work of one of our favourite artists, Tony Foster, who travels from his home in Cornwall to remote places with his tent, his paper and water colours. He has painted, among other places, The Grand Canyon, Everest, rain forests, the Galapagos Islands and locally and I love how he adds a tiny map and little piece of nature to each painting – tubes of sand, a pebble or two, a shell or pressed flowers – truly beautiful work.
If you want to know more, just put his name in my search bar. Enjoy today’s photos. Click on each to expand to read his pencil notes at the bottom of each painting and if you are local, do go along and immerse yourself in these precious reminders of the fragility of this beautiful earth we inhabit.

Grand Canyon

Chapel Porth

Jurassic Coast

Cornish Oak

And this is his tent!

We have one of his Lockdown pieces at home. https://mybeautfulthings.com/2021/10/22/cottage-cygnets-and-meeting-the-artist/

10 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 16, 2025 in America, art, Cornwall, environment, nature, painting, Postaday2025, travel, Uncategorized

Tags: Tony Foster

Pineapple and A Poet

15 Jul

Community Roots had been given some pineapples left over from the Tropical Pressure Festival last weekend and I was given one. I’ll make a Heligan Pineapple Cake or two with it.

I was saddened to read of the death of the American poet, Andre Gibson who wrote, among many others, the wonderful poem “Dying is the opposite of leaving.” – Andrea Gibson (8/13/1975 – 7/14/2025) . Look it up.

When a poet dies

A poet who was sun

Bright and warm

Searing truth

Hopeful rays

Whose ears were blessed

Whose souls were healed

Whose hearts were held

By their words

Flicker in the darkness

With the stars they planted

In our breath

constellations of memories

Shining tears of gratitude

Pulling us closer to each other

In honor

In grief

In love

Rest well dear poet

We will carry your light

#AndreaGibson

2 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 15, 2025 in Postaday2025

Singing by the Sea

14 Jul

We met at the Blue Bar in Porthtowan for our weekly rehearsal as our regular room was unavailable this week too. The view from our room is just so lovely.

We learned a really lovely new four part song today, “You and the Sea” by Katy Rose Bennett. There’s a short extract at the end and here are the lyrics, a beautiful poem:

I don’t know where I’m going
but I know just what I need –
A soft wind
the shelter of the forest, bird song,
you and the sea

It seems that I can’t upload the song but I have found it on YouTube!

2 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on July 14, 2025 in Cornwall, environment, music, nature, Porthtowan, Postaday2025, Sea, singing, Uncategorized

Tags: Katy Rose Bennett

Waning Moon, Day Lilies and Shallots

13 Jul

I missed getting a photo of the full moon a couple of nights ago but managed this one of the still lovely waning moon last night.

Our Day Lilies are magnificent this year.

We have harvested our shallots grown at the lttie. They’ve been curing in the warmth over the last week of so and this afternoon I have plited those with long enough stalks and put the rest neatly in the basket trug.