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Category Archives: nature

Resting, Waiting and A Mike Harding Poem

It’s been a quiet, stay-at-home, curl-up-with-a-good-book, rest-after-hectic-holiday sort of a day while Storm Brian begins to make its way across Britain, starting with us in the South West.

I saw this in Tiger in North Finchley on Wednesday and it made me laugh so I had to buy it. I do cook with Tarragon too.

Here is a brilliant poem by Mike Harding for you that came my way yesterday and which touched a chord.

One Swallow

Remember how you’d drive at night in summers past
Through fogs and mists of midges, 
Blizzards of fat bugs, snowstorms of moths
All melting on the windscreen glass?
Long, hot, country miles, you’d drive
Dry eyed and squinting out into the dark, cursing,
The windscreen frosted with their last moments,
The wipers useless, washer water gone.
You’d get back home to find the hurl and heft
And spatter, the great smears of death,
The legions lost, all dashed and hurtled to their end –
Guts, brains and wings, thorax and antennae –
Pulped into a patina you’d have to soap and scour away.

But Death comes easy for them now, no battering
Oblivion at seventy miles an hour, head on,
Just the toxic rain of money slathered across 
The meadows, hills and downs.
One swallow makes a summer now;
Soon she’ll be gone too with the bees, 
The birdsong and the riotous great clamour
That once welcomed every dawn.
And, as we face each silent year
And see the dustbowl fells and fields, 
We’ll weep for what we all have lost:
For clouds of midges, nights alive with moths, 
The scimitars of swallows, martins, swifts,
The wrens and sparrows, nightingales and jays
And the chanting birds that caroled once
All across those golden, summer days.

(From “Fishing For Ghosts” Available via the online shop at www.mikeharding.co.uk)

Sunflower to attract insects September 2014

 

 

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Free Day in Lisbon

We escaped the tour today to do our own thing –  visit The Gulbenkian Museum and Modern Art Gallery, have a picnic lunch, walk in the Eduardo VII Parque and finish with a jacuzzi!


Madame Claude Monet by Renoir

The Stocking by Mary Cassat, one of my favourite artists.

Beautifully worn Library steps

Delightfully naughty little Cherubs in the tapestry from Mantua dated 1540

Gorgeous grasses in the gardens, only 6″ high.

More to add after dinner! And here I am, back again!

Seed pods found in the Parque.

View from the fountain in the park right down to the sea.

Mother’s elegant toes followed by baby’s chubby toes.


A Fig tree growing inside an Olive tree.

 

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Harvest Moon, Hydrangea and Suffragette Garden

The Harvest Moon was glorious last night. I had thought it was the Hunter’s Moon but then I discovered this:

This year’s autumnal equinox came on September 22nd, making October 5th the Harvest moon because it is the closest full moon in the calendar.While October is usually reserved for the Hunter’s moon, this year we got a late Harvest moon.The Hunter’s moon will take place on November 3.

Harvest Moon through the trees

I love how Hydrangeas are just as lovely as they start to fade.

Hydrangea for Patti

Our suffragette Garden has purple and white at the same time for a day or two! Spring is its best season but the Japanese Anemones are just still in flower as theTibouchina Urvilleana have just started to bloom.

Japanese Anemone

 
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Posted by on October 6, 2017 in Beauty, garden, nature, postaday2017

 

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White Dahlia, Pink Amaryllis and Friendship

Our white Dahlias are very lovely this year. They seem to have found their feet at last.

White Dahlia in our garden

I have been singing with friends this afternoon, getting ready for a performance in November. Their garden is glorious but only this photo worked today as I am getting to know how my new camera works.

Amaryllis in J&M’s garden

My Blog is dedicated to my lovely friend, Kath, who died six years ago today. In Sonnet 104, Shakespeare talks about the value of friendship and the fact that enduring friendship remains intact despite the “process of the seasons” and the passing of the years.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride;
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned
In process of the seasons have I seen;
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived.
  For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:
  Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.
I have written almost every day with Kath in mind, a total so far of 2,309 posts in her memory.
 

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Exeter, Lunch and The Copse

A late decision to go shopping in Exeter proved to be a very good one. After a couple of hours, (and a new camera for me!) we met our eldest for lunch, a real treat as we haven’t seen her since the Golden Wedding events. Driving home, everyone in Cornwall recognises the Copse that says, “You are nearly home!” Do join me in the gallery to enjoy the beautiful things I spotted while on walkabout. Click on any photo for the caption and more detail.

 

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October Garden, Sheep and Lunch

Our garden is still full of colour. The Begonia given to us by J&M some months ago is thriving.Click on any photo to get the full glory.

There are sheep in the field behind us!

Sheep in the back field

Lunch – simple,  beautiful – and delicious.

Delicious

 

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Ducks, Silver Linings and A Blackberry Poem

Driving into Truro this afternoon, we followed a van the rear of which which made me smile.

Ducks

Driving home, the grey sky was suddenly lit in such a way that we seemed to be looking through some torn holes to see the silver lining.

Silver holes in the sky

I was given this poem yesterday and it delighted me both as an eater of Blackberries and a bit of a wordsmith.

Blackberry Eating – Galway Kinnell

I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
they earn for knowing the black art
of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them
lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries
fall almost unbidden to my tongue,
as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words
like strengths or squinched,
many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,
which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well
in the silent, startled, icy, black language
of blackberry-eating in late September.

Isn’t it a delight?

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2017 in Beauty, Humour, nature, Photography, poetry, postaday2017

 

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