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Brunel, Bat-Girl and Boris the Moggy

Here we about to cross  the Tamar into England across the Brunel Bridge on our way to visit the London branch of the family.

We collected LiveWire No 3 from school and took her for a treat in our favourite French cafe. Despite the heat, she wanted to keep her coat declaring she was Bat Girl!

Boris is a very beautiful cat who looks like a Colourpoint Longhair but who really is just a moggy as his label declares. His little sister, Bob, is black and sleek and very purry, especially at story time. 

 
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Posted by on June 15, 2017 in Beauty, Grandchildren

 

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Pinks , Purples and A Spanish Poem

Our garden has lots of pinks and purples at the moment and the contrast of orange here and there.

The Moon Comes Forth
By Federico García Lorca
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

When the moon is out
The bells die away
And impenetrable
Paths come to the fore.

When the moon is out
Water covers land
And the heart feels itself
An island in infinity.

No one eats oranges
Under the full moon.
It is right to eat
Green, chilled fruit.

When the moon is out
With a hundred faces all the same,
Coins of silver
Start sobbing in the pocket.

The Original:

La Luna Asoma

Cuando sale la luna
se pierden las campanas
y aparecen las sendas
impenetrables.

Cuando sale la luna,
el mar cubre la tierra
y el corazón se siente
isla en el infinito.

Nadie come naranjas
bajo la luna llena.
Es preciso comer,
fruta verde y helada.

Cuando sale la luna
de cien rostros iguales,
la moneda de plata
solloza en el bolsillo.

 

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Jacket, Broccoli and Painted Biscuits

I wish my patchwork jacket were as bright when dry!  My special friend, Kath, for whom this blog is written, had one of these jackets too.

The veins on the Purple Sprouting broccoli are turning purple.

It is a year since Jo Cox, MP,  was murdered and in celebration of her belief that we have more in common, many, many people are taking  part in The Great Get Together this weekend.  We will be in London and will be unable to join in with our local Allotment Society’s Barbecue Get together so this afternoon I have baked some biscuits to be taken down as our contribution to the party. I found the flower cutters a few weeks ago and saved their first use for these painted biscuits.

 

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Everlasting Sweet Peas, Bird House and Bee

My walk today took me on a different route where there was a whole hedge of Everlasting Sweet Peas. They look gorgeous but sadly have no perfume.

I loved this little bird house in a garden along the lane.

Bees could be heard all along the way and I caught this one busily collecting nectar.

Today I have had a really lovely job, collating all the wonderful comments sent in about our event, Until the Day Break, set in St Euny Churchyard. The only complaint was that we had sold out and someone couldn’t get tickets! I’ll share some of them with you later.  Click on the red link to see some photos of the event.

 

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Tintagel, Steps and Sculpture

We had read about the sculpture on the cliffs at Tintagel so set off today. We had not bargained on the number of steps up but it was worth it to get the amazing views and the beautiful sculpture by Rubin Eynon. Join us on our steep and windy walk. Click on any photo in the gallery for a bigger view.

 
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Posted by on June 11, 2017 in art, Beauty, Cornwall, Photography, sculpture

 

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Marmalade, John Masefield and Alstroemeria

We bought our Seville Oranges for marmalade in February but froze the oranges as we were too busy to make it so yesterday we set to and made two batches of the glorious golden stuff. Making it, smelling it boiling, always takes me back to my childhood to the kitchen in Daniell Road, Truro, when my parents used to make enough to last the whole year. Today, I labelled the jars and here they are. The tiny jars are for Breakfast-in-Bed treats!

I was wondering why John Masefield’s poem had come into my head this morning and, as I wrote the above paragraph, realised that the poem and the marmalade making memories belong to the same era! I had to learn this poem by heart when in the top class at Bosvigo Junior School, aged about 11. I loved it then and I do now – it’s the rhythm, the alliteration, the assonance and the sheer magic of the exotic words. I never did like the last verse as much as the first two.

Cargoes

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amethysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

John Masefield

These Alstroemeria flowers are the lovely Mr S’s favourites.

 

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Iris, Eryngium and Acer

Our garden has gone from the yellows of Spring to blues and reds among the green.

 

 

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