Oh, the first of May, the first of May! 

 How lovely it is, as Calli sits and watches in the sun, beside the tulips.

And I stir up dirt, a little bit of this, a dab of compost, some potting soil, 

a smidgin of vermiculite 

and a thimble full of 'Feed and Forget.

 I make up a pot of yellow begonias, pansies and sweet alyssum

to take to my daughter across the lane.

Tuesday, when it was our elder daughter's birthday and it was still April,

we drove along to Ginty's Pond with the camera

and were mesmerized by the beautiful greens

and the sun shining on last year's candled rushes.

and the neon green clump of grass reflected in the still waters.

I went to visit the hill garden, - up the lane 

lined with the beautiful curly willow

that Charles rooted and planted and watered and nurtured -

a sweet remembrance of him

and to the garden shop for some blue lobelia....

Transfixed with spring I found two lovely poems

from the days when I was young and romantic, - when

I loved Sara Teasdale, and was in awe of Goethe.

A delicate fabric of bird song

Floats in the air,

The smell of wet wild earth

is everywhere,

Oh I must pass nothing by

Without loving it much,

The raindrop try with my lips,

The grass with my touch;

For how can I be sure

I shall see again

The world on the first of May

Shining after the rain?

Sara Teasdale May Day

How fair doth Nature

Appear again!

How bright the sunbeams!

How smiles the plain!

The flow'rs are bursting

From every bough,

And thousand voices

Each bush yields now.

And joy and gladness

Fill ev'ry breast!

Oh earth!--oh sunlight!

Oh rapture blest!

Oh love! oh loved one!

Goethe, May Song

And most wonderful of all!  

Just tonight I have news of the birth of our fifth Great Grandchild!

What more glorious for springtime and the first of May!!!

The Diplomatic Platypus

ABC Wednesday
April 30th, 2014

The letter is P this week...

Amongst the many poems dedicated to The Duck-billed Platypus I have chosen THE DIPLOMATIC PLATYPUS by Patrick Barrington, the 11th Viscount Barrington of Ardglass (1908-1990).

Patrick Barrington was famous for his humorous verse, popular in Punch in the 1930's.

He was unmarried, and upon his death in 1990 the peerage he held became extinct.  But the Platypus lives on to entice poets with its inviting name and curious attributes.

The Diplomatic Platypus

I had a duck-billed platypus when I was up at Trinity,
With whom I soon discovered a remarkable affinity.
He used to live in lodgings with myself and Arthur Purvis,
And we all went up together for the Diplomatic Service.
I had a certain confidence, I own, in his ability.
He mastered all the subjects with remarkable facility;
And Purvis, though more dubious, agreed that he was clever,
But no one else imagined he had any chance whatever.
I failed to pass the interview, the board with wry grimaces
Took exception to my boots and then objected to my braces,
And Purvis too was failed by an intolerant examiner
Who said he had his doubts as to his sock-suspender's stamina.
Our summary rejection, though we took it with urbanity
Was naturally wounding in some measure to our vanity;
The bitterness of failure was considerably mollified,
However, by the ease with which our platypus had qualified.
The wisdom of the choice, it soon appeared, was undeniable;
There never was a diplomat more thoroughly reliable.
He never made rash statements his enemies might hold him to,
He never stated anything, for no one ever told him to,
And soon he was appointed, so correct was his behaviour,
Our Minister (without Portfolio) to Trans-Moravia.
My friend was loved and honoured from the Andes to Esthonia,
And soon achieved a pact between Peru and Patagonia.
He never vexed the Russians nor offended the Rumanians,
He pacified the Letts and appeased the Lithuanians,
Won approval from his masters down in Downing Street so wholly, O,
He was soon to be rewarded with the grant of a Portfolio.
When on the Anniversary of Greek Emancipation,
Alas! He laid an egg in the Bulgarian Legation.
This untoward occurrence caused unheard-of repercussions,
Giving rise to epidemics of sword-clanking in the Prussians.
The Poles began to threaten, and the Finns began to flap at him,
Directing all the blame for this unfortunate mishap at him;
While the Swedes withdrew entirely from the Anglo-Saxon dailies
The right of photographing the Aurora Borealis,
And, all efforts at rapprochement in the meantime proving barren,
The Japanese in self-defense annexed the Isle of Arran.
My platypus, once thought to be more cautious and more tentative
Than any other living diplomatic representative,
Was now a sort of warning to all diplomatic students
Of the risks attached to negligence, the perils of imprudence,
And, branded in the Honours List as 'Platypus, Dame Vera'
Retired a lonely figure, to lay eggs in Bordighera.

For more entertaining and educational P's visit here at ABC Wednesday with thanks to Roger, Denise
and all who visit and maintain this most Popular meme.

How I spent Sunday....

Out in the garden first thing in the morning, getting all squiggley and dirty, 

mixing soil and planting potatoes in the potato planting bag I bought last spring, 

 - just like this one only orange.....

You will notice the nice little flap at the bottom of the bag that enables you to  feel around

for those first small baby potatoes that are so delicious

with a bit of mint!

I had a few nicely sprouted potatoes left, so found a little spot at

the bottom of a bird house my

son-in-law made for the back garden

and tucked them in with a pat on the head and

a nice covering of potting soil and compost.

Time for coffee and a shower, and then I dressed

for an afternoon event.

The 100th Anniversary of the establishment of the Royal Purple Lodge,

an adjunct to the Benevolent Order of Elks.

I have belonged to the Purple for many years, and have many dear

friends amongst the organization.  It suffers from a lack

of new memberships among the young as so many

of the old institutions do.

New generations and new ways of doing things.

As a result we are small in numbers, but the bonds are strong.

To celebrate we had a Friendship Day, inviting friends in other Lodges to attend;

coming, if they wished, in fashions of a century ago.

I wore a big hat, white gloves, a nightgown ensemble I fashioned into a tea dress. and carried an old fashioned bag.

Many others came in similar costumes, although I think mine was the only nightgown there!

We had a delicious old-fashioned tea with fancy sandwiches and welsh cakes

and strawberry shortcake, and then played games that were popular in the parlours 

of the country one hundred years ago.

Snakes and Ladders, Pick up Sticks, Tiddly Winks and Dominoes, 

   and I have to say, considering the age of these ladies, 

                      most appropriate in that they were not too mentally strenuous 

            that they interfered with conversation!!

We all had a perfectly lovely time and I came home and had a small drink of

Orange Brandy and a pleasant dose of Reminiscence.

 

The garden, as April fades into May

A chilly spring and a fickle April,

 but I am being gradually lured out into the garden to plant salad greens, potatoes

 and the few perennials and summer bulbs I picked up 

at the garden shop.

The King Alfred's were glorious and my rather depleted supply of them

(compared to other years in the hillside garden)

mostly went on to the Altar, and from there

to others in the Parish who are not

fortunate enough to have even a

depleted supply.

The tulips and narcissus have taken their place.

And a few late daffodils.

And the pretty pink blossoms of the Elephant's Ear have

started to shoot up under the Mountain Ash.

I planted a new hosta in the shady berm under the neighbour's

evergreens, hoping that it will do as well as the 

one we put in a few years ago.

It was pleasing to see the mystery tree we de-horned this spring

has all sorts of beautiful fresh sprouts and leaves

and that the Mountain Ash we thought was ill and dying last fall

is looking healthy and full of vigor and new buds.

After taking some Welsh Cakes to the Royal Purple to serve at a 100th year Anniversary

tomorrow I went up to visit  the folks on the hill,

but nobody was home so I admired their lovely blossoms

and took some pictures

of the Flowering Almond

and the beautiful magnolia

and the blossoming cherries and plums

Here at home budding lilacs

burgeoning poppies

and blue sky over Apex, in the distance,

fill me with enthusiasm for May!!!

Musical Octet and the Octet Rule in Song

ABC Wednesday
April 23, 2014

The letter is O which might stand for Octet, - of which I give you two examples....

The Schubert Octet D803 played

by an Israeli ensemble consisting of eight instruments,

which is, of course, an OCTET

and a musical rendition of the OCTET RULE

which will perhaps help us all understand chemical bonding

(never my strong subject I fear)

I understand it all has to do with the figure eight.

For more interpretations of the letter O visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise and their 'octet' of helpers.

Howard Nemerov, Poet Laureate

ABC Wednesday



The letter is N and I have chosen Howard Nemerov to represent this letter,

partly because he is of the same generation

partly because of Nostalgia (although an American he was once a pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force)

but mainly because I admire his poetry.

Howard Nemerov was a Leap Year baby, born on February 29th, 1920.  He obtained a Batchelor's degree from Harvard in 1941, and then during the war he joined the RCAF, later transferring to the American Air Force .

After his discharge he moved to New York with his wife to complete his first book before he turned to teaching, at various Colleges.  He was Distinguished University Professor of English and Distinguished Poet in Residence at Washington University in St. Louis from 1969 until his death in 1991.

His novels include The Homecoming Game, Federigo: Or the Power of Love, and The Melodramatists.

The Collected poems of Howard Nemerov won the Pulitzer Prize, the National Book Award, and the Bollingen Prize.

He served two terms as Poet Laureate from 1988 to 1990, and at his death in 1991 the Howard Nemerov Sonnet Award was instituted to honor him.  By 2008 about 3000 sonnets were entered annually in the associated competition.

Two of his poems which are representative of Nemerov's style.......

A Primer of the Daily Round  ("demonstrative of his prosodic creativity")

A peels an apple, while B kneels to God,

C telephones to D, who has a hand

On E's knee, F coughs, G turns up the sod

For H's grave, I do not understand

But J is bringing one clay pigeon down

While K brings down a nightstick on L's head,

And M takes mustard, N drives to town,

O goes to bed with P, and Q drops dead,

R lies to S, but happens to be heard

By T, who tells U not to fire V

For having to give W the word

That X is now deceiving Y with Z.

    Who happens just now to remember A

    Peeling an apple somewhere far away.

Because you asked about the Line between Prose and Poetry 

 (frequently taught as an example of an Ars Poetica  "as it describes the nearly imperceptible change  between rain and snow while still maintaining the formal poetic elements of rhyme and meter"

Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle

That while you watched turned into pieces of snow

Riding as gradient invisible

From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.

There came a moment that you couldn't tell.

And then they clearly flew instead of fell.

For more of the ABC Wednesday meme click here

  - with thanks to Roger, Denise and all helpers.

In my mail box, first thing this morning, - before I had time to look at the sky, to fall into the soft white clouds, to face the day with gratitude.

It caught me unawares....

A poem by Patricia Campbell Carlson

Each day I'm a little crazier with missing you

The dog still snores on the couch, her paws

dancing through a dream-lit field.  The sun

sets as usual, illuminating the red-frilled edges

of newly emerging wild-rose leaves.  The veins

on the backs of my own hands run like ancient

rivers towards the depths of the body.  Why

do I feel I need you so much more than these

ordinary beauties, as if heaven slipped up and

poured everything sacred into one single vessel,

leaving me wildly aware of the way clay shatters?

Musical Muppets

ABC Wednesday

The letter is M

for Muppets 

 (because I am still painting the picket fence while the sun shines and I mustn't take time to try to be intellectual,   I will just let the Muppets entertain you and hope you will enjoy three Minutes of Musical Mahna Mahna and that wild and wonderful Mane of hair that I am sure was familiar around the house in the 60's and 70's)!!

If you wish something more educational to represent the letter M

click here to visit ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Denise, Roger and all who help to 

maintain this great meme.

Painting the picket fence, tender leaves and buttercups

I only do this job in bits and pieces, and have started with the inside of the fence, the part we see from the window that was all dingy, even though it wasn't too noticeable when the birds were gathered on the ground and around the bird feeders, and your eyes were not focused on the fence.

But when you put on your 'company' eyes, oh my, - it called out for some attention!  And so I went to the Irly Bird store and bought a couple of gallons of white recycled outside paint, and doing a couple of hours at a time over the last few days I have it looking quite respectable.  From the house side......

From the street side, where walkers and talkers pass by, it still has patches where the paint has worn off and it looks sad, shabby and neglected, so tomorrow, when it is warm and the sun will be shining, I will pretty up those pickets that are seen by the world in general!

Painting in patches often leaves you with extra paint in the bottom of the can, and I have been using this up on the steps and the garden furniture, and to clean the brushes I have been squeezing out the last bit and decorating the wheelbarrow.

And I spruced up the coffee bench and table with a new coat of blue paint....

I know this sounds quite mundane, - what is exciting about painting the picket fence??  Huckleberry Finn passes through my mind......  Mark Twain certainly did well by writing about painting fences.  However, I must be content with finding a great deal of satisfaction in welcoming spring this way, and look forward to lazy summer days when I can potter around or read, or day dream, without being nagged by raggedy tagged fences and unhappy looking benches and tables

So after a few days of brushes and paint buckets I welcomed an invitation to have Sunday brunch at the Grist Mill with an old friend and her daughter, and a further invitation to accompany them on a drive south through the Chapaka Indian Reserve to the U.S. border.

I was amazed that even ten miles south of us Spring had set up an encampment, planted buttercups along the roadside and tenderly opened the green leaves of spring on poplars and willows and small bushes.

Foliage at the Grist Mill.   Changes as we travel south.....

 Past vineyards  and high peaks beyond the Similkameen mountains that tower, snow covered.

To where the river winds under the Red Bridge to the Reserve

and along the meadows  - not cattle in the distance but bee hives,

 wintering on the Reserve

We reach the small Roman Catholic Church that lies close to the Border

I couldn't get the square bell tower into the picture from the back seat of the car, and would have

got out to take a better picture, but there were people there and I didn't want to intrude.

Here is a small picture with all the car paraphernalia included.......

and here are the buttercups, although I know you will have to search to find them and my

Photoshop skills aren't great enough to make them more visible.  And I really mucked up 

the blues and greens trying!!!!!

It was a lovely afternoon - we came home and had tea and exotic shortbreads from the Bakery.

Linden Gardens

ABC Wednesday
April 2nd, 2014

The letter is the elegant L, which stands today for Lovely Linden Gardens

Located about 10 minutes south of Penticton in the orcharding community of Kaleden, Linden Gardens was a pioneer fruit farm.for seventy-five years before the 1990's. 

Now it is a most resplendent nine acre garden with flowers and trees and shrubs, ponds and streams and winding pathways, and at its entrance The Frog City Restaurant which serves home made bread, soups and salads for a snack for garden lovers and wonderful full course meals for celebrations!  A perfect spot for weddings, anniversaries, birthdays and reunions!

The Class of '42, (Penticton High)  before its numbers diminished, held their last two annual reunions there, and these are pictures taken in May of 2012 as we wandered through this beautiful acreage.

And some of the graduates of the Class, seventy years on, - still dear friends bound by memories and close association through the years.

I think small town schools are perfect places for fostering Long Lasting Liasons, and I count some
of Charles' classmates of '42 amongst my dearest friends.

Many thanks to Roger and Denise of ABC Wednesday.  Visit here for more interesting L's!!!