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Category Archives: Penryn

Reflection and View

It’s always good to sing on Thursday mornings beside the Penryn River.

There may be a recording later when it arrives in my inbox.

 

Reflection, Egret and English

The tide was in on the Penryn River as I arrived for singing this morning. The water was very still and the reflections gorgeous.

Later, after singing and with the tide receding, I noticed an egret pootling about in the mud.

Having family and friends in America, this chart amused me.

While we are talking about words – is anyone else enjoying Quordle? I’m loving it!

 

 

Reflections, Thanksgiving and Pecan Pie

What a beautiful start to my morning as we sang with this view of the Penryn River.

It’s Thanksgiving in the USA and in solidarity with family and friends in America, we cook up a storm of a Thanksgiving dinner using some family recipes.  We’ve cooked a small turkey crown with and cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, using our beans and recipe from the book “Giving Thanks’ bought in Plimouth some years ago, mashed potatoes, kalettes with shallots and bacon, stuffing  and gravy to be followed by Pecan Tart for pud.

Happy Thanksgiving to family in Atlanta, Hawaii, Seattle and Phoenix and friends in Flagstaff, Vermont and Sacramento. Also to all my blogging friends- Happy Days!

Pecan Pie

 

Cornish Sole, Peas and A Sign

I bought some recently caught  Cornish Lemon Sole at the fishmonger’s today. coated it  in seasoned flour and fried it quickly in butter – delicious! I served it with Cornish potatoes, spinach and peas and was reminded of a cartoon I saw recently.

Daughter No 2 hated peas as a toddler and used to hide them on the rungs of her high chair. We should have tried this line!

This reminder was seen in Penryn today.

 

 
 

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COP26, Exhibition and Cloud

You will all be aware that the COP26 meeting is happening in the UK, in Glasgow. Yesterday our choir sang, Voice for Change, music written by our choir leader, Claire Ingleheart and words by Jaime Lock, for a series of protest songs, Songs of Rebellion,  a few years ago. It’s a fabulous piece and we recorded it last night for you. Do listen to the words. The line, “We can’t tell our children that we have not tried” gets me every time.

The gallery, Fannie and Fox, where I used to sell my glass closed over the pandemic but we are having a pop-up exhibition this week at The Fish Factory in Penryn. We set up my corner this afternoon ready for the opening night tomorrow.

Goldenboots Glass display

Driving home afterwards there was a very interesting cloud that I managed to capture.

Cloud over Penryn

 

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Singing, The River and Yachts

There are moments when we are singing in the Zed Shed in Penryn and looking out over the river, that life just feels so very good! I love  the mass of masts and all the wriggly reflections.

 

Colours, Car, Cat and Choice

By the time we had finished singing in Penryn this morning, the tide had gone right out so I was very glad that a fellow singer encouraged me to ‘Seize the moment!’ when I spotted this lovely colourful reflection.

As we were leaving our fabulous singing session, we were chatting at the junction when a window box went by, stopping long enough at the traffic lights for me to catch a picture. It was delightful to see the little dog in the window once I had uploaded the photo.

The lovely Mr S and I went back to Penryn this afternoon to take the cushions out of the boat for its winter storage. While in the boatyard, I met a ship’s cat, Pearl, just 15 weeks old, who has just learned how to go up and down the ladder.

A bonus for you! Today is National Poetry Day. The theme is choice and on the National Poetry Day website I found a poem by one of my favourite poets whose work I have shared here before. A short extract was read on the radio this morning and I was delighted to find it ‘with kind permission of the poet’ allowing it to be shared. The last few lines particularly resonated with me.  Do click on the link – there are many more poems for you there.

Choice

i

I may raise my child in this man’s house
or that man’s love,
warm her on this one’s smile, wean
her to that one’s wit,
praise or blame at a chosen moment,
in a considered way, say
yes or no, true, false, tomorrow
not today. . .

Finally, who will she be
when the choices are made,
when the choosers are dead,
and of the men I love, the teeth are left
chattering with me underground?
just the sum of me
and this or that
other?

Who can she be but, helplessly,
herself?

ii

Some day your head won’t find my lap
so easily. Trust is a habit you’ll soon break.

Once, stroking a kitten’s head
through a haze of fur, I was afraid
of my own hand big and strong and quivering
with the urge to crush.
Here, in the neck’s strong curve, the cradling arm,
love leers close to violence.

Your head too fragile, child,
under a mist of hair.
Home is this space in my lap, till the body reforms,
tissues stretch, flesh turns firm.
Your kitten-bones will harden,
grow away from me, till you and I are sure
we are both safe.

iii

I spent years hiding from your face,
the weight of your arms, warmth
of your breath. Through feverish nights,
dreaming of you, the watchdogs of virtue
and obedience crouched on my chest. ‘Shake
them off,’ I told myself, and did. Wallowed
in small perversities, celebrated as they came
of age, matured to sins.

I call this freedom now,
watch the word cavort luxuriously, strut
my independence across whole continents
of sheets. But turning from the grasp
of arms, the rasp of breath,
to look through darkened windows at the night,
Mother, I find you staring back at me.

When did my body agree
to wear your face?

© Imtiaz Dharker, from Postcards from god (Bloodaxe Books, 1997)

With kind permission of the poet

 

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River, Bulbs and Pie

My choir is meeting again in the Zed Shed and once more we have the joy of the Penryn River as our backdrop as well as singing together, albeit in very small numbers.

I love the hope intrinsic in planting bulbs now for the Spring. These are some that we are about to plant. We haven’t had either variety before so look forward to seeing these next March/April..

Tonight we have had Leftovers Pie – chicken bits from the roast earlier this week with two chopped up vegan sausages all in a sauce made by whizzing up leftover cauliflower cheese and all covered with a puff pastry lid that had been frozen since I last made pies. We served the pie with Runner Beans harvested this afternoon at the allotment. We treated ourselves last night to a special dinner at our local hotel, The Penventon, and tonight’s frugality made up for that!

Leftovers Pie

 

Yellow, Door Knocker and A Poem

The Kalettes are flowering and make a pretty vase-full. They taste good too if caught before the flowers open so that they are like Purple Sprouting Broccoli.

I spotted this delightful door knocker in Penryn the other day after leaving the optician.

I love this poem. It sums up my blog for me – ordinary things being just perfect.

What happiness looks like by Marge Piercy

 

Some things are ordinary but perfect:
drinking coffee on summer mornings
with you as the cats laze about, fed,
on you or on me or curled together
in the bay window on a sunny pillow.
Outside the weeping beech stirs
in the wind, leaves hanging down
like just washed long tresses.
We talk softly of the pending day.
This is all I would need of heaven
that I don’t believe in, but this
I believe.
 

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Mosaic, Quilting and Angels

It was my day in the gallery today, surrounded by beautiful things.  Click on any image to see more detail.

 

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