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Category Archives: History

Rose Hips, Cakes and Estha’s Story

The Rose hips were in someone’s garden in Truro or I might have picked them to make syrup.

Before the show, Estha’s Story,  at Heartlands this evening, there was singing and cake in the Diaspora garden. The cakes were magnificent! All made by Little Crumbs and decorated with edible flowers.

The show was amazing! Yskynna, the aerial dance company and the singers combined to tell the story of a Cornish Bal maiden and the audience loved it. Click on any photo in the gallery for a closer look.

 

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Mobile, Poem and A Calendar

Our nephew’s wife, our niece-in-law, is an artist with words, otherwise know as a poet, whose work thrills me. She has given me permission to share this one here.  In honour of her poem, Pisces Public Apology, here is a photo of a mobile that my Dad brought me from Mevagissey when I was five years old.  I have treasured them for many, many years.

Pisces in pottery

 

Pisces Public Apology

I’m not a rock, I’m water.
I will never be still, try to understand that.
There will always be a ripple beneath the surface of my clouds

There will always be a reaper in my waves.

I am the child they called Powder Puff,
crying eyes caricature
doggy paddling the riptide
squinting for a dwelling place
in the oasis of my own peace but at the moment,
that pebble
is somewhere downstream.

Try to swallow the fact that I
ingest my surroundings and
spit them out in distillate form and
that could be a shower or
hold on to your hats cos
it could just as well be a storm.

I know that you want me to stop dissecting the particles in search of a source babe,
but isn’t that the definition of
precipitate?

Can you relate to the water cycle,
from pool to vapor to ice and then bled
out by gravity over and over and over again-
Have you ever danced in the rain?
Have you ever tasted water from a glacial stream?

This is a public apology.
Don’t get too close to me.
When you see the water rising,
get to shore or I’ll pull you down.

Try to understand that I am not
an empty threat,
you will get wet.

Your nostrils will burn with the flush of salt.

The sun setting in coral tones behind me
says that the only way to make it is to float.

The moon never says anything,
a conductor in silhouette.

It’s just the way of the sea,
the rage is under the surface
and rises up like Neptune –
Is my tongue a wave or is it a blade?

The sun has seen me sleep serene
beneath his rising,
like a mirror in the dark.

He knows I will show you
the red and aubergine vessels,
I will pull on the pumps in
your own heart and you will drown
in love for the rawest remnant of yourself.

I am a teal tyrant to be sure
and yet,
in the summer months all of the earth’s children delight in my mischief.

They say you haven’t lived
if you haven’t at least dipped your feet or
turned your grinning face skyward in the rain.

I am not a rock but I’m a home for
beings too small to even see,
predatory beasts with bloody teeth,
creatures too foreign to even believe.

I’m not a rock, but
anyone will tell you,
I am the blue blanket on this
big round boulder,
the source of life for every form and
the finest refinery of every stone.

A Dear Friend from choir who knows my Suffragette history has given me a Suffragette calendar. The following are July’s picture and caption.

 

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Six on Saturday – My Suffragette Garden

Several years ago we planted a small border with a colour scheme of purple, white and green dedicated to my Great Granny who was a Suffragette, was imprisoned in Holloway, went on hunger strike  and was force fed. In the family but not in my possession, we have the Holloway brooch designed by Sylvia Pankhurst and given to all those incredibly brave women who fought for our right to vote.  To honour her, we have our Suffragette Garden.

1.  This was the garden two years ago in Spring, a bit later than now.

purple-white-and-green-garden

2.  Now it is looking tired with just a few individual splashes of colour and it needs renovation. This is my main project for the moment. We want colour all year round. We have Clematis, one white and one purple for later in the year. We have Japanese Anemones and we had Tibouchina Urvilleana but it isn’t looking very well. I’m thinking of a couple of small Hebes, one white and one purple. If anyone has suggestions to help, especially plants that won’t demand too much attention, I’m all ears. The white Narcissi at the road end that were once lovely have almost all come up blind for the second year…..

Not enough colour, lots of clearing  work to be done

3.  There are pops of colour to be seen but fewer Crocuses than two years ago. The birds up-rooted lots of them.

Crocuses

4.  Only one Hyacinth is showing and that one a bit thin.

Lonely Hyacinth and much weeding to be done

5.  The Clematis is showing lots of growth and rather early so we hope there is no cold spell coming to knock it back, fairly unlikely here in Cornwall but by no means impossible.

Clematis growing well

6.   And just to show you – The Holloway Brooch, on which we base our colour scheme.

 

Pop over to The Propagator’s blog to see more contributions to Six on Saturday from gardeners all over the world which are fascinating to read.

 

 

 

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Glass, Sky and Playing

I have always loved Bristol blue glass having grown up with a beautiful piece which I have featured here before – a glass rolling pin. Find it here.

Bristol blue glass

The sky has been clear and beautiful today.

Blue sky

LiveWires 5 and 6 have been playing with a shape sorter made by my Grandfather for my Mother to use in her teaching of infants. Then my three siblings and I played with it, next,  our four children and now it is the LiveWires 5 and 6 watched over by their big sister who are playing with the toy made by their Great, Great Grandfather. Isn’t that just wonderful?

LiveWires 1, 5 and 6

 

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Hat Pin, Thimbles and Missing Loved Ones

Sorting yet another drawer today, I found this beautiful hat pin.

Silver and feathers

There has been correspondence in The Guardian recently about The Peterloo Massacre and the fact that this topic is so little known about and is rarely taught in schools. (Is that so, G?) I was reminded of one of my Father, David Wiseman’s,  novels and set to this afternoon to re-read it. It’s brilliant! It was published here in the UK, in America and in Denmark and here are the various covers.

Reading it, I could hear my Daddy’s voice, see the cottage they once lived in, recognise characteristics of both my Mum and Dad in two of the characters, walk along the Coombe with the main character down to the sea and see again my Mum’s beautiful collection of thimbles. Quite an afternoon.

Missing someone

 
 

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Road Trip Day 12 – Ghost Town at Animas Forks

Saturday 15th September 2018

Having looped all around, we drove back to Durango today and met our dear friends from Flagstaff with whom we are to share a few days of our trip. They have a 4×4 in which they have offered to drive us into the back country on the road known as the Alpine Loop to visit a Ghost Town, left abandoned by the gold and silver miners in the early 1900s and which by 1920 was a Ghost Town. First a gallery to show some of the sights on today’s drive of 186 miles.

From Durango off we went to find Animas Forks, a little town which I found very moving indeed.
Some of my readers may remember the research I did in 2016 into a Cornish tin miner who emigrated to Colorado, taking his sought after hard rock mining skills. This was the kind of place he may have come to. For those new to my work – his fiancée, Mary, followed him, travelling alone across the seas from Cornwall then across the USA to be with her John. They married and had a child, Foster, whose war grave is in St Euny Graveyard, just down the road from us. John died when Foster was very young and Mary returned to Redruth, with her little boy, to be with her family – another challenging and amazing journey for a young woman in the late 1800s.  Foster died in 1916, while in training to join WW1 and his mother died just 6 months later. They are buried in the same grave in St Euny.
I walked around this remote town in the mountains imagining Mary, fresh from Cornwall, in this bleak environment.

The drive was another challenging one but this time we weren’t driving! The Quaking Aspens were becoming more beautiful by the day, the road rougher and the destination more remote. What must Mary, coming to meet her much loved man, have been thinking as she made this journey at only 21 years old?

If you’d like to know more about Animas Forks, here is a link to Wikipedia 

 

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Road Trip Day 8 – The Million Dollar Highway

Sunday 11th September 2018

Oh my, what a ride that was from Mesa Verde to Durango and on to Ouray over the Red Mountain Pass! Switch backs, mountain edges, trucks on narrow ledges, fabulous views for the non-driver and edge of the seat stuff for us both! We were both surprised and delighted to see the start of the glorious Fall colours, something we hadn’t anticipated.

Harleys with Mesa Verde behind

The road

Fall colour

Some of the switchbacks

We found our ride through the Red Mountain area particularly interesting as there was evidence of the mining that happened here in the late 1800s. Many Cornish miners, Cousin Jacks, left Cornwall to bring their hard rock mining skills to Colorado.

Info about The Red Mountain Mining District

Left behind house at the Red Mountain stop

Red Mountain

A truck taking one of the switchback turns

Edge of the seat riding

Black Bear Manor, our delightful B&B in Ouray

You might, or might not, like to look at this information about the Million Dollar Highway.
I’m glad I didn’t quite know what we were about to drive!

 

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