We have had a fabulous walk with our friend today along the SW Coast path around St Anthony Head.
I collected a tiny posy of Spring flowers today for my lovely little pottery container sent to me by our lovely friend, P.
The Clematis in the front garden is beautiful.
We have a friend staying for a few days and we all walked down to the Churchyard to take photos of four special gravestones which are to be part of the performance 18th-21st May. They are each to be marked by ribbons and the four young women being remembered will be wearing the same colour of ribbon on their costume.
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.
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.
We watched the sun set.
The Perthi Kov team have all been hard at it today, costume schedules, character discussions, poster making and programme designing – just brilliant and I want to record my thanks to the team making this happen. They know who they are. The flyers are ready for printing too.
We had supper at The Blue Bar this evening and then had a walk on the beach at Porthtowan. We spotted a handprint that suggested someone was doing cartwheels earlier in the evening. I used to love cartwheeling across the beach!
So Many Different Lengths Of Time – Poem by Brian Patten
How long does a man live after all?
A thousand days or only one?
One week or a few centuries?
How long does a man spend living or dying
and what do we mean when we say gone forever?
Adrift in such preoccupations, we seek clarification.
We can go to the philosophers
but they will weary of our questions.
We can go to the priests and rabbis
but they might be busy with administrations.
So, how long does a man live after all?
And how much does he live while he lives?
We fret and ask so many questions –
then when it comes to us
the answer is so simple after all.
A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
for as long as we ourselves live,
holding memories in common, a man lives.
His lover will carry his man’s scent, his touch:
his children will carry the weight of his love.
One friend will carry his arguments,
another will hum his favourite tunes,
another will still share his terrors.
And the days will pass with baffled faces,
then the weeks, then the months,
then there will be a day when no question is asked,
and the knots of grief will loosen in the stomach
and the puffed faces will calm.
And on that day he will not have ceased
but will have ceased to be separated by death.
How long does a man live after all?
A man lives so many different lengths of time.
What a brilliant day! Warm sun shone on us as we began to rehearse ‘Until the Day Break’ in St Euny Churchyard with both choirs, The Ingleheart Singers and The Red River Singers, with the professional actors and all the volunteers. It was truly wonderful seeing our ideas all come together. In the gallery you will see the warm up in the Church, some of the rehearsals at the gravestones, our tea break and more rehearsals and, if you click on the video, even hear a bit of one of the songs we have just learned.
In Praise of Spring – Linda GreggThe day is taken by each thing and grows complete.I go out and come in and go out again,confused by a beauty that knows nothing of delay,rushing like fire. All things move fasterthan time and make a stillness thereby. My mindleans back and smiles, having nothing to say.Even at night I go out with a light and lookat the growing. I kneel and look at one thingat a time. A white spider on a peony bud.I have nothing to give, and make a poor servant,but I can praise the spring. Praise this wildnessthat does not heed the hour. The doe that does notstop at dark but continues to grow all night long.The beauty in every degree of flourishing. Violetslift to the rain and the brook gets louder than ever.The old German farmer is asleep and the flowers go onopening. There are stars. Mint grows high. Leavesbend in the sunlight as the rain continues to fall.