All around the scanning department at our hospital are beautifully crafted verses from The Garden Year. June is etched into glass and couldn’t be photographed but here is October – and the whole poem.
The Garden Year
January brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes, loud and shrill,
To stir the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daisies at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs
Skipping by their fleecy dams.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children’s hands with posies.
Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots, and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm September brings the fruit;
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasant;
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.
Dull November brings the blast;
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
2 I called in at The Old Market Chacewater, on our way home from Truro. It is a delight, a treasure trove of beautiful vegetables, delicious bread and pastries – I bought a Pain-au-raisin and a Chocolate Croissant as well as the gorgeous carrots.
3 Singing tonight was, as always, so good for the soul and lifted my spirits – a boost that I brought home to share with the lovely Mr S. The village that we sing in has put an eye-catching little treat on the roadside as one enters the village.