Wednesday, March 20, 2013

My dear DIL, Nicola, came yesterday and did magical things with my computer, so that now I am Wireless (is that the same as being Clueless?) and I am able to use Charles' laptop here at the kitchen table, while my toast toasts and my egg boils merrily in its little flowered china jar.which I resurrected when I changed my breakfast menu.

I even cut my toast into soldiers, and dip them, something my darling husband was not familiar with, not having had an English mother.  I am afraid, he didn't entirely approve of the practice!!!!!!

March is doing its 'Lion' act today, - very damp, chilly and windy.  I will confine my gardening to writing in my journal and  replanting the lily bulbs I rescued from the garden on the hill to bloom  in tandem with the blaze rose that grows against the garden shed.


I'm off to discover what precious rich earth lies in wait for me at the bottom of the compost bin to make the lily bulbs feel at home in this sparse soil here in town.  And to see what progress the daffodils are making........

If the weather improves tomorrow will see another couple of hours in battle with the cutch grass and the Chinese Railroad Line that have made themselves at home - even throwing great parties at times, I suspect, - up there in the old garden.   It does, however, just seem to ignore this neglect and is springing up with great energy and promise, glorious in this wild March weather.

I am reminded of D..H. Lawrence and The Enkindled Spring.
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring?  My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.



The Weaver of Grass said...

How desperately we need a tasteof Spring here Hildred. It has snowed again most of the day today - that awful wet stuff that doesn't settle but just makes everywhere miserable.
Love your little egg cup and I approve of soldiers - have them myself.

Wanda..... said...

Lovely Spring poem. I have 2 similar china jars with little blue flowers, which I've never actually used, but maybe I will now...and dip my toast and think of you, Hildred.

Sallie (FullTime-Life) said...

Breakfast sounds wonderful.

Like you, I depend on loved ones to do whatever they do to the computer to make it work. so I think I'm both wireless and clueless!