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Category Archives: literature

Walking, Robert Browning and A Cornish Bouquet

1 Grand-baby B took five independent steps on Sunday! I’m working hard to finish the cardigan for her first birthday in ten days’ time. I’ve just completed the buttonholes so now it’s the sewing up – always the hardest bit.

2 The arrival of April always reminds me of a delightful Robert Browning poem, Home Thoughts From Abroad, another poem we learned by heart when we were youngsters!

Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England – now!

And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops – at the bent
spray’s edge –
That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song
twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children’s dower
– Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

3 These beautiful flowers arrived for me this morning, gorgeous, scented and Cornish – of course!

Cornish bouquet

5 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on April 1, 2014 in Beauty, flowers, Grandchildren, literature, photography, poetry, Postaday 2014

Tags: Cornish bouquet, first steps, Home Thoughts From Abroad, Oh to be in England Now that April's there, Robert Browning

Hamlet on Radio 4, Parents’ Tao and Narcissi

27 Mar

1 Confined to the house as I am with pleurisy (what a bummer!) I am loving listening to BBC Radio 4’s Afternoon play which each afternoon this week is a marvellous interpretation of Hamlet, one of my favourite of Shakespeare’s plays. Today’s episode reached the oh so moving speech when Queen Gertrude tells Laertes that his sister, Ophelia has drown’d.

“There is a willow grows aslant a brook

That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.

There with fantastic garlands did she come

Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,

That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,

But our cold maids do “dead men’s fingers” call them.

There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke,

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,

And mermaid-like a while they bore her up,

Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element. But long it could not be

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay

To muddy death.

Those beautiful, sad words brought Milais’ painting into my head.

Ophelia by John Everett Millais

2 A blogging friend, Lou, introduced me to The Presents of Presence when she re-blogged a post. The following words really spoke to me so I, in turn, give them to you here:

Make the Ordinary Come Alive

Do not ask your children,
To strive for extraordinary lives.

Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is a way of foolishness.

Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.

Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.

Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.

Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.

And make the ordinary come alive for them.

The extraordinary will take care of itself.

From ‘The Parent’s Tao Te Ching” by William Martin

3 Last night two of my knitting friends brought me some beautiful Pheasant’s Eye Narcissi. Not only do they look amazing, they smell just lovely. Thank you N and T.

Pheasant’s Eye Narcissi

8 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on March 27, 2014 in art, Beauty, literature, nature, painting, photography, poetry, Postaday 2014

Tags: Hamlet, John Everett Millais, Ophelia, Ophelia by John Everett Millais, Queen Gertrude, Shakespeare

A Love Poem, Flowers and Another Love Poem

14 Feb

It’s Valentine’s Day so here, for you all, are two poems and some flowers to share.

This one by e e cummings has been one of our favourites since we met 48 years ago.

i carry your heart

Here are our daffodils, opening beautifully this morning.

Valentine’s Day Daffodils

This poem by Wendy Cope has been published for the first time in The Guardian today. I think it is very beautiful. It reminds me of something my Mum used to say, “Every goodbye, even if you are only going shopping should be a proper good one!”

To My Husband

7 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on February 14, 2014 in Beauty, flowers, Happiness, literature, photography, poetry, Postaday 2014

Tags: e.e.cummings, i carry your heart, love poetry, To My Husband, Valentine's Day, Wendy Cope

Under Milk Wood, Bird Visitors and Wild Winds

26 Jan

1 Another duvet day but with the special treat this morning of hearing some of Dylan Thomas’ Under Milk Wood on the radio. That is my favourite piece of literature even above Romeo and Juliet! Just listen to Richard Burton reading the opening lines by clicking here. It’s 60 years since UMW was first broadcast. Mum and Dad bought the recording on two 78rpm records and played it often and so I grew up hearing the best radio play ever.

2 It’s the Big Garden Bird Watch today (where people all over the country count the birds in their garden or park for one hour over the weekend) and, feeling better, I took my duvet downstairs to watch for the birds. The weather is still so wild that there were few but in the odd moments between showers and gusts of wind, one or two of our regulars called in.

Blackbird

Magpie

Pretty pigeon

2 The wind has been every-which-way today. The weather vane hasn’t known which way to go!

Blowing West?

…or East?

14 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on January 26, 2014 in Beauty, birds, environment, literature, nature, photography, poetry, Postaday 2014

Tags: 'Under Milk Wood', Big Garden Bird Watch, Dylan Thomas, Richard Burton

Bird Table, Peace Poem and Embroidered Bees

23 Jan

1 We’ve been looking for a new bird table for some time and yesterday found one we both liked. It has already attracted a couple of small visitors.

New bird table

2 Amy Witting / Joan Levick wrote this evocative poem, Peace. I was delighted to learn that this Australian writer chose the surname ‘Witting’ because of a promise she made to herself to never be ‘unwitting’, to always remain conscious of everything in her life – which is what I try to do here in my blog. I can’t put the whole poem here because of copyright but here’s the link so that you can read all ten lovely lines.

Peace

At the ship’s bow. It was my eye that drew
the perfect circle of blue meeting blue.
……………
……………….Stillness all around.
Only the perfect circle and the mast.
That moment knew no future and no past.

3 L gave me this beautiful embroidered little container but neither of us could think how I might use it. Then I thought – a jam jar of water and a bunch of Cornish daffodils so here they are!

Flowers and bees

5 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on January 23, 2014 in Beauty, embroidery, literature, Peace, photography, poetry, Postaday 2014, Words

Tags: Amy Witting, Australian poet, B4Peace, Joan Levick, peace

Peace, Robert Frost Poem and Winter Solstice

21 Dec

1 This delightful card arrived this morning from my cousin, S. It was designed by a primary school child and spreads the message beautifully. I wish you all and all your loved ones a happy, peaceful and love-filled festive season and New Year.

Peace card designed by a child

2 One of my favourite poets, Robert Frost, wrote this poem, ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’. Until today, I had always thought he must have written it on 21st December, the darkest day of the year. Here, you can hear the poet reading his own poem and hear the story of how he was inspired to write it one mid-summer day!

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

3 Today we have celebrated the Winter Solstice. From tomorrow the days will start getting longer. I took a photo at dawn and another at sunset to mark the day and we went to our friends’ new woodland where they are creating a stone circle to start a new tradition. G had placed the first stone at sunrise and he and the lovely Mr S set the sunset stone in place and we all sang ‘May this stone be filled with love and harmony’, new words to this song with which we started our concert in Truro Cathedral last week. Click on any image for a bigger picture.

Taken at 8.18am 21st December sunrise here

Our hands on the Sunset Solstice Stone as we were singing

Taken at sunset on 21st December 2013

and just come in from a young friend, Natalie – “Tonight’s triple whammy! At the exact time as winter solstice, the #iss passes over the UK while the astronauts do a space walk!” Brilliant! Thanks, Natalie.

7 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on December 21, 2013 in Beauty, environment, literature, photography, poetry, Postaday2013

Tags: B4Peace, peace, Robert Frost, stone circle, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Winter Solstice

Poem, Winter Blooms and Nativity Angel

11 Dec

1 This lovely poem by W H Davies came to mind this morning. It sums up what I try to achieve with my blog, making myself take time to appreciate all the beautiful things around me, especially at this busy time of year.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

2 These beautiful flowers, Kashmir Lilies, keep on flowering despite the cold winds. It took many shots to get pictures as they kept swaying in the wind!

Kashmir Lily

3 J, the oldest of our Grandbabies at just 5, called to tell us he has been an angel in the school Nativity this afternoon – wish we could have seen him. The following video is not of J but made me smile in memory of the many Nativity plays I have watched over the years. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihQuiyV-lXU I think it’ll make you smile if not laugh out loud!

5 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on December 11, 2013 in Beauty, flowers, garden, Humour, literature, nature, photography, poetry, Postaday2013

Tags: nativity play, W H Davies, What is this life?

Mandela Memorial, Lunch and Tree Planting

10 Dec

1 We listened to the Memorial for Nelson Mandela this morning. What a man – and how loved and respected he was. I loved Obama’s speech and the quoting at the end of the last two lines from Mandela’s favourite poem. I put it all here as it is so appropriate.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Beautiful.

2 I made a bowlful of Broad Bean Hummus (garden ones, frozen) to take for a shared lunch today. My Oat and Linseed Flowerpot loaf worked out well too.

Broad bean hummus

Salad dressing in one of N’s beautiful bowls

Oat and Linseed flowerpot loaf

3 Our shared lunch with our good friends, N&G, was a precursor helping them plant the last few trees of their small woodland. I just love the whole idea of this – to have the forethought to plant for generations to come. There are Sessile oaks, Silver birch, Rosa Rugosa, Ash, Sweet Chestnut, Gean Cherry, White, Goat and Scarlet Willows, Italian Alder, Elder and Hazel – all planted for particular purposes – for the birds, for insect life, for food, for shelter and for love. It’s going to be a magical place with a stone circle in the middle and the hands and laughter of many friends in the planting. What a joy to be part of this project. Thank you to you both.

Our first tree planted

Kaia helping with the digging

Part of the very young woodland

13 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on December 10, 2013 in Beauty, environment, Food, garden, literature, nature, photography, poetry, Postaday2013, trees

Tags: Broad bean hummus, Invictus, Mandela, Nelson Mandela, Obama's speech, woodland

Lest We Forget, Poppy Fields and A Poem

11 Nov

It’s November 11th, Armistice Day, and we remember all those who died in all wars, soldiers and civilians, in the past and those ongoing. We continue to support those who work for peace.

Poppy field in Doncaster June 2010

Poppy from that field

I find this poem by a German poet, Georg Trakl, very moving. The waste of war, the tragedy, the dreadful contrast with natural beauty are all here, affecting all those involved, whichever side they are fighting for. The last line gives me shivers.

Grodek

At evening the autumn woodlands ring
With deadly weapons. Over the golden plains
And lakes of blue, the sun
More darkly rolls. The night surrounds
Warriors dying and the wild lament
Of their fragmented mouths.
Yet silently there gather in the willow combe
Red clouds inhabited by an angry god,
Shed blood, and the chill of the moon.
All roads lead to black decay.
Under golden branching of the night and stars
A sister’s shadow sways through the still grove
To greet the heroes’ spirits, the bloodied heads.
And softly in the reeds Autumn’s dark flutes resound.
O prouder mourning! – You brazen altars,
The spirit’s hot flame is fed now by a tremendous pain:
The grandsons, unborn.

Georg Trakl

You may also like this post from Remembrance Day last year where there is another beautiful poem. Click on the red link.

NaBloPoMo

14 Comments

Posted by mybeautfulthings on November 11, 2013 in Beauty, flowers, History, literature, nature, photography, poetry, Postaday2013

Tags: Armistice Day, Georg Trakl, German poet, NaBloPoMo, poppies, remembrance, veterans

Storm, Dahlia and ‘Poem in October’

27 Oct

1 It’s a very grey day today and we are promised an enormous storm with possibly 80-90 mph winds. A friend sent me this warning.

Batten down the hatches! There's a hoolie blowin' in!

Batten down the hatches! There’s a Hoolie blawin’ in!

2 The dahlias are still in flower, though, given the forecast, this may be the last we see this Autumn.

White Dahlia

3 I love the poetry of Dylan Thomas whose birthday it is today. Here for you is his ‘Poem in October’, one of my favourites. I love his lyricism and the way he plays with words and the intimations of the wonderful ‘Under Milk Wood’, to come some ten years later.

Poem In October

It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.

My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.

A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill’s shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.

It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child’s
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels

And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singingbirds.

And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart’s truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year’s turning.

Dylan Thomas