Another very productive and happy day spent at Community Roots,
You may remember a couple of weeks ago when I showed you the poly tunnels just planted up with the plug plants. See how they’ve grown!
After working today, we went to the nearest beach at Porthtowan just to see and hear the sea. It is always uplifting to do just that. It was very pleasing to see the Erigeron in flower.
My lovely Mum was born on Bonfire Night one hundred and nine years ago and, as a child, thought that everyone was celebrating her birthday with enormous fires and fireworks lighting up the sky. As I write, I can hear the fizz and whizzle, pop and slap of fireworks and the sky is lighting up sporadically. Mum would have loved it as she also loved storms and wild seas.
My photo to honour her today is of her in her element, teaching deaf children in Roskear Primary School, Camborne. I once went to watch her in the classroom and what a special memory that is.
My brother just sent a photo of the parkin he has made today to honour Mum’s birthday. We always had Mum’s parkin around the bonfire with our sparklers!
Thank you to all those of you who sent messages about the Storm Ciaran. It was wild and has caused problems for many but we are okay. Our only casualty was poor WellyDog being blown over. Elsewhere there have been many trees and power lines down, blocking roads (I couldn’t go to choir), sheds down, slates, walls and fences down, trampolines blown away and some flooding around the coast. As always, communities are working together to help others. We will be at our allotment on Saturday as there has been considerable damage to sheds, greenhouses and poly tunnels and a “mend it together’ working party has been called.
It was dry but very windy when I took the following photos as Storm Ciaran begins its progress through Cornwall. Please forgive the poor focus on a couple of the pictures.
”Small Kindnesses”by Danusha Lameris
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walkdown a crowded aisle, people pull in their legsto let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”when someone sneezes, a leftoverfrom the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.And sometimes, when you spill lemonsfrom your grocery bag, someone else will help youpick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smileat them and for them to smile back. For the waitressto call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.We have so little of each other, now. So farfrom tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, thesefleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”