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Category Archives: Peace

In Print, Violets and Sunset

This morning I found the May issue of Cornwall Today in the shop and our project has a wonderful six page write up from Kirstie Newton with fabulous photos taken by Sally Adams.

The article about our project

I spent another couple of happy hours in the Cornish Studies library today finding more images for our exhibition and our programme – all very exciting and this evening we went up to St Agnes Beacon for a quiet walk together, no-one else around and found some peace.

Violets on the cliff top

We watched the sun set.

Sunset from St Agnes Beacon

 

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Shadows, Flower and Bob Hicok

When the sun shines into our sitting room in the evening it lights up the glass Agapanthus that we bought on The Scillies years ago and sometimes, as now, the shadow has colour in it.

There are Marguerites in flower in a neighbours’ garden. This is the centre of one. Aren’t the colours lovely?

I subscribe to Knopf Poetry throughout April, a month of poetry. This one by Bob Hicok came in a day or two ago and is brilliant! We are all HUMAN!  As my lovely SIL says – we both get the poems -” I love the subtle message of “We’re all PEOPLE, people!” ”

We’ve come a long way toward getting nowhere
 
My obsession with Jews is an obsession
with one Jew. I look at her walking
and wonder what anyone could have
against Jews, at her sleeping
or hunting for her keys in the morning,
which she does often, lose her keys
when she has to go to work, suggesting
she doesn’t want to, and maybe this
is the problem with Jews:
they don’t want to leave. Or they eat
lots of chicken. Or worry the black
of their skirts doesn’t match the black
of their tops. Or like children more
than babies. Or fret over their mothers.
My Jewish problem is figuring out
why America in 2016 has a dab
of 1930s German Fascism to it—
people at political rallies
yelling crap about the Jews.
If I thought it would do any good,
I’d go to Topeka or wherever
and bring Eve with her troubled wardrobe
and her love of chicken and fascination
with children between two and thirteen,
when they can talk but before
they’ve begun planning the murder
of their parents, bring her face-to-face
with the screamers and ask, So these
are the freckles you hate? I would—we have
a lot of Amex points and I’ve never been
to Topeka or wherever, and I’m sure wherever
is very nice. And whenever we travel
to wherever, whatever people say
and however they say it, Eve’s freckles
will be the same, kind of cute
and kind of Jewish,
just like all her other parts
that do and do not have freckles,
in an inventory I alone
get to take, though trust me—
after repeated inspection, I can attest
that underneath it all, she, like many
of the people you know or are,
is ticklish, wrinkly, sexy, scarred—
since Jews really are relentless
when it comes to being human.

 

 

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Rhododendrons, Daffodils and May Swenson

After singing again today, I went for a solo walk in Burncoose Nursery Gardens. I love the feeling of personal peace I get in there with nothing but the beauty and the scent of the flowers, varieties of bird song and the chance to think. The magnolias have just about finished but the Rhododendrons are now in flower and gorgeous.

Most of the Daffodils have gone over too as the Bluebells start to bloom but these few caught my eye and reminded me of  line in a poem, ‘the yolk coloured mouthpieces’ – just what these blooms have. Below is the whole poem by May Swenson.

Daffodils – May Swenson

Yellow telephones
in a row in the garden
are ringing,
shrill with light.

Old-fashioned spring
brings earliest models out
each April the same,
naïve and classical.

Look into the yolk-
colored mouthpieces
alert with echoes.
Say hello to time.

 

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Pudding, Peace and Ted Hughes

The lovely Mr S has been working on the interior of the boat for the past month, out from 9-6 each day so when he came home early today, we went out for a treat. Here is the Lemon Meringue Pie that was my choice of dessert.

I bought these letters today as the Es were back in stock. I have put them on the window sill in the sun room, overlooking the back garden.

This poem, April Birthday by Ted Hughes,  is for a young friend whose birthday is today. Happy days, N. I love the idea of Spring, being ‘like  a whole circus tumbling through a hoop.’  I love the ‘blossoms bombing’. I love the trees staggering under their new load of young leaves. I love the poem as you may have gathered!  Hope you do too, Natalie.

April Birthday – Ted Hughes

When your birthday brings the world under your window
And the song-thrush sings wet-throated in the dew
And aconite and primrose are unsticking the wrappers
Of the package that has come today for you

Lambs bounce out and stand astonished
Puss willow pushes among bare branches
Sooty hawthorns shiver into emerald

And a new air
Nuzzles the sugary
Buds of the chestnut. A groundswell and a stir
Billows the silvered
Violet silks
Of the south – a tenderness
Lifting through all the
Gently-breasted
Counties of England.

When the swallow snips the string that holds the world in
And the ring-dove claps and nearly loops the loop
You just can’t count everything that follows in a tumble
Like a whole circus tumbling through a hoop

Grass in a mesh of all flowers floundering
Sizzling leaves and blossoms bombing
Nestlings hissing and groggy-legged insects

And the trees
Stagger, they stronger
Brace their boles and biceps under
The load of gift. And the hills float
Light as bubble glass
On the smoke-blue evening

And rabbits are bobbing everywhere, and a thrush
Rings cooly in a far corner. A shiver of green
Strokes the darkening slope as the land
Begins her labour.

 

 

 

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Peace, A New Book and More Embroidery

Yesterday we collected flat pebbles at Portreath and today LiveWire T wrote kind and loving  words on them.

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This morning the family went to visit The Poldark Mine and found it fascinating. I couldn’t go as I had to go to my Pilates class which helps me stay mobile!  LiveWire J was full of information that he had learned and was very struck by the fact that boys his age had to go down the mine to work!  We feel that the time is ripe for him to be given my Dad’s, his Great Grandfather’s novel, Jeremy Visick to read. He has promised to look after it and to tell me how he gets on with it.

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LiveWire T has continued to work on her free embroidery and is taking great care with each stitch. This is our last day with them so we will need to finish it off early tomorrow morning before they leave at 9.30.

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Fathers, Brine and L R Knost

It was on this day in 2004 that my lovely Dad died and he has been in my mind and my heart more than usual today. The following cutting was found by my Mum many, many years ago and clearly made her think of her Father, my Grandfather, The Rev W R Richards, whom I knew for only a couple of years when we lived in the Vicarage in Cockerham, Lancashire with him and my Granny.dscn9591

If only – my lovely Dad was a very wise man.

The turkey is sitting in the brine I made yesterday. Isn’t it a beautiful colour?dscn9580

These words from L R Knost touched me.peace

 
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Posted by on December 17, 2016 in Beauty, family, Peace, Postaday 2016, quotations

 

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Renghan Reveya, Christmas Tree and Thich Naht Hanh

A couple of days ago I asked if anyone had good ideas of how to use the beautiful little Fairytale Aubergines that I had just bought. Well, the greengrocer did! He had put a recipe book on the stall open at the page for Renghan Reveya, Round Aubergine Satay. What a brilliant feast-like meal we have just enjoyed! The recipe has been taken from Prashad Cookbook: Indian Vegetarian Cooking by Kaushy Patel. What a find!

Tonight The Ingleheart Singers have sung for the switching on of the tree lights in Troon. It was a delightful affair.

Troon's Christmas tree

Troon’s Christmas tree

The following words are so important to remember and resonate with me just at the moment. Help in the form of love and kindness is what everyone needs to help through the suffering. Love to all my readers.

Think on this

Think on this

 

 

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