Friday, April 12, 2019

A Magical Day

Friday, April 12th, 2019


The Post Box

turned into a Treasure Chest

and out poured all these wonderful

jewels from Thrift Books

True Gems of Literature......

like poems of John O'Donohue

A Fable by Paulo Coelho


and a couple of books

to delight the young at heart....


and a coloring book entitled

"The Trees of Life"

this is for my seventy-some son
who maintains 
not only a young heart but also a
philosophical mind

and this book should just fill the bill!

Thrift Books is a treasure in itself

and one that I have just discovered....

some of out-of-date books

and many that you would pay a fortune for elsewhere.

If you don't mind second hand books

that have been busy handing out joy

to others,

do investigate further.


From "Conamara Blues" by John O'Donohue

a wonderful collection of

poems on the

Good Friday/Easter Passion

here are two.....


"The Carrying of the Cross"

A kiss on the back of the neck tingles,
Almost sound, a breath of music in bone
It is here they laid the heavy crossbeam,
Each step a thud inward like sick thunder.

It invades his head.  All silence leaves him.
Stooped forward he watches his innocent feet
Search each step for sure ground to take the weight.
He falls face first on the broken pavement.

Those he knows to see will not meet his eye.
They fear his gaze might unleash misfortune.
Sweat down his back opens a line of wounds.
A white towel absorbes a mirage of his face.

Windows open in the crowd, his heart rends
At the weeping of his mother and friends.


"The Resurrection"

Oh, the rush with which the forgotten mind awakens
Under the day a well of dark where colour dwells
Until it learns the art of light and can reveal,
In neglected things, the freshness thought darkens.

With grey master distance starts to blur the horror.
Already the days begin to set around the loss.
The after-silence of his death becomes porous
To the gossip of regret that follows failure.

Through the cold, quiet nightime of the grave underground
The earth concentrated on him with complete longing
Until his sleep could recall the dark from beyond
To enfold memory lost in the requiem of mind.

The moon stirs a wave of brightening in the stone.
He rises clothed in the young colours of dawn.

Sunday, April 07, 2019

Springtime Sunday Evening

It is Sunday evening and I have just finished in the kitchen after having a delicious dinner, - baked potatoes, sweet carrots and pork ribs with whiskey BBQ sauce.  Lovely!!!

The pork ribs were fabulous. but it was the potatoes I wanted to tell you about.

When I went to the cupboard to find the spuds, rub them with butter and wrap them in foil for the oven I discovered that they were sprouting eyes!!!  In the old fashioned way.

So often, - perhaps always, - the potatoes you buy in the Super Market have been chemically treated to prevent them from sprouting, probably to increase their shelf life.  So it was quite exciting to see these wonderful brown and fertile garden opportunities!

I immediately thought about the potato growing bags we have been using for the last couple of years, since our veggie garden space has been reduced.

The year we left the farm and moved to 10th avenue we planted potatoes on the 3rd of March, so surely the 8th of April would be an appropriate time to bury these beautiful morsels under a coat of rich brown earth.

Mind you, the garden on 10th was quite unusual, - the first time since our retirement from the farm that we had been able to devote all our energy to it, - which Farmer Finch did with great enthusiasm.

Will probably never have a garden to equal it, but nevertheless, the signs of spring are everywhere.

The lawn awash with violets, a few daffodils and tulips blooming, but the rest of them busy making
gigantic leaves and buds to attract the bees and butterflies.

The neighbours apricot tree is in bloom, and I did try to get a decent picture of the flowers, but you would find them blurry, I fear, and so I have added a picture of last year's apple blossoms, with a springtime bee filling his little tumy, or honey sacks.

The house has forsythia which I slipped away from various children's gardens
and brought in to blossom

and the Hellebores are in full bloom

the catkins have all fallen off the hazel nut tree

 and lie abandoned on the lawn like so many little worms

replaced with tiny fresh green leaves

We are badly in need of a good two day rain to replenish

the poor dry earth

and I await eagerly for someone

to shovel all the lovely compost from the bottom of its bins

on to the beds which will welcome

its richness!!

Springtime, and off we go to another summer

of gardening!!!!

In the morning I shall plant the potatoes

that have been languishing in the cupboard!!!