Churchyard

 Dear Reader,

Norman churches in England (c.1066-1150)  were monumental stone Romanesque structures built by the Normans to assert religious and political authority after the Conquest, replacing nearly all Anglo-Saxon, mostly wooden, buildings.   

Characterized by round arches, massive pillars and often decorated with chevron patterns, these grand, long naved multi-story basilicas aimed to dominate the landscape with key examples including Durham Cathedral and St.Albans Cathedral.

In some cases churches were built as acts of atonement.  For example, William the Conqueror founded Battle Abbey on the exact spot where King Harold was killed during the Battle of Hastings.  

 

                                                                              *

From Dorothy Wordsworth  January 27th   1802   Westmorland

'A beautiful mild morning; the sun shone; the lake was still, and all the shores reflected in it......The bees were humming about the hive.   William raked a few stones off the garden, his first garden labour this year.  I cut the shrubs.'

 

                                                                           *

Churchyard

 

The day was ice cold,
frost sparkled on hedges and trees.
Grass glittered in
the graveyard of the old
Norman church,

 still standing firm and solid.

 

A ghostly haze hung over the

headstones, banks and banks

of snowdrops sheltered under

 trees in great clumps,

a few early daffodils peeped out.

 

There was silence everywhere.

Far away hills and fields
filled my vision and

spirituality filled the air.
Angels flew around me,

shared their                                                            

paradise of quiet perfection

and love.

 

                                                                               *

With best wishes, Patricia 

January Weather

 Dear Reader,

St. Merryn, Cornwall, is a village with ancient roots, named after a 6th/7th century community hub evolving through centuries of construction, and thriving today as a peaceful coastal area known for its beautiful beaches near Padstow, blending history with its popular modern holiday destination status.

The name links to a Welsh missionary possibly St. Mirin who spread Christianity in the region.  The village church has always been central, undergoing many building phases and extensions over time, and its history reflects a close-knit community with strong family ties.

                                                                              *

For some reason the poem I put on last week a "Soldier's Meditation" has been enormously popular. Particularly in Singapore and Hong Kong.  So I will put it up again this week along with "January Weather" a poem I always love.  Gosh the weather has been terrible hasn't it?  As someone with a difficult and weak chest I can hardly go out to walk and find I get "cabin fever" if I don't go out for days.  Well at least there are snowdrops in the garden so spring is on its way, thank goodness.

                                                                               *

 

 From Gilbert White  January 20th  1775  in Hampshire

'Lambs fall, and are frozen to the ground.'

 

From John Constable  January 20th 1834 in Hampstead

'The trees and the clouds seem to ask me to try and do something like them.'

 

From Katherine Mansfield   January 20th  1915  in Buckinghamshire 

'A man outside is breaking stones.  the day is utterly quiet.   Sometimes a leaf rustles and a strange puff of wind passes the window. The old man chops, chops as though it were a heart beating out there.' 

                                                                                   *

Soldier’s Meditation

 

 

 

 

My cigarette time-burns,

my body trembles,

only minutes now

until the action starts.

 

Am I brave?   no, not brave

I am shit-scared,

my body reeks.

The last drop of whisky

wets my parched lips.

I light another cigarette.

 

I hold this gun to hide behind.

With it, I will aim and slaughter

someone unknown, someone’s son,

mother, father, daughter.

 

 

If killed, I want no part in bands playing,

or speeches glorifying my sacrifice.

I want no weeping, seen or unseen,

pitying those who were,

those who had been.

 

Go, action, ready, time to start.

Dear God, do leaden wings always fly

a universal soldier’s heart?

 

 

                                                                               *

January Weather

 

We know from recorded history, 

that in St. Merryn

a hundred years ago,

there blew great winds

and the sea was smoking white.

 

We know that it was warm in Kent,

where the thrushes thought spring

had come, and piped away.

And primroses were a yellow carpet

in North Norfolk,

or so the parson wrote.

 

We know of cutting winds in Hampshire,

of icicles and frost, and in Skiddaw on a mild day,

a brown spotted butterfly was seen.

We know that hungry church

mice ate bible markers,

hungry people died of cold.

 

And we know that this dark winter month

had days of snow, that wild clouds

gathered in the sky unleashing icy rain,

churning up the plough.

 

And yet, again, we also know 

the sun shone in that distant year,

it was warm enough to push through

early snowdrops, and Holy Thorn.

Light was glimpsed, here and there,

all life struggled for its moments. 

 

                                                                       *

 

 

With best wishes, Patricia 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soldier's Meditation

 Dear Reader,

Wolf Moon

 

 

Dear Reader,

According to the Old Farmer's Almanac the January full moon was named the 'Wolf Moon" because "wolves were more often heard howling at this time".   It was traditionally believed that wolves howled due to hunger during winter, but we know today that wolves howl for other reasons.

Native American tribes also referred to this moon as The Freeze up Moon, Hard Moon or Centre Moon, marking the deep winter season.

It is said that the Wolf Moon enhances intuition and emotional awareness. For New Beginnings:  It marks a time for setting intentions and embracing change. For Inner Strength: This lunar phase symbolizes personal power and resilience.  For Emotional Healing:  The Cancer influence promotes nurturing and self care.

The Bible says as you observe the Wolf Moon let it inspire you to cultivate a deeper connection with God, your community and your own spiritual path.  Embrace the transformation it symbolizes and trust in the intuition God has placed within you.

                                                                                  *

As is my wont I was making a cup of tea at 3am on Saturday night when I saw the Wolf Moon.  It looked so beautiful but icy cold.  I am glad I was up to see it.

                                                                                    *

 

From Richard Hayes   January 11th 1765   in Kent 

'Brisk wind but quite warm.  Song thrush pipes away as though an April morn.' 

 

From Francis Kilvert   January 12th  1873  in Wiltshire

'When I came out the night was superb.   The sky was cloudless, the moon rode high and full in the deep blue vault and the evening star blazed in the west.  the air was filled with the tolling and chiming of bells from St Paul's and Chippenham old church.......I walked up and down the drive several times before I could make up my mind to leave the wonderful beauty of the night and go indoors'.

 

                                                                             *

 

Soldier’s Meditation

 

 

 

 

My cigarette time-burns,

my body trembles,

only minutes now

until the action starts.

 

Am I brave?   no, not brave

I am shit-scared,

my body reeks.

The last drop of whisky

wets my parched lips.

I light another cigarette.

 

I hold this gun to hide behind.

With it, I will aim and slaughter

someone unknown, someone’s son,

mother, father, daughter.

 

 

If killed, I want no part in bands playing,

or speeches glorifying my sacrifice.

I want no weeping, seen or unseen,

pitying those who were,

those who had been.

 

Go, action, ready, time to start.

Dear God, do leaden wings always fly

a universal soldier’s heart?

 

 

 

                                                                                                         *

I have been thinking about the soldiers fighting in Ukraine this week and thought this poem pertinent.

   

                                                                                                          *

 

With very best wishes,  Patricia 

 

 

The Mind cupboard

 Dear Reader,

Daffodils  (genus Narcissus) have a rich history, linked to Greek myth (Narcissus) and Roman introduction to Britain where they were thought to have healing powers before becoming a major commercial crop in the 19th century, particularly in Cornwall, symbolizing rebirth, hope and new beginnings across cultures.

The botanical name for the daffodil is narcissus, named after a young man known for his beauty in Greek mythology who was tricked into falling in love with his own reflection.  The drooping flowers that characterize most daffodils are said to represent Narcissus bending over to catch his own reflection in a pool of water.

The name derives from the Greek 'narco' which is the root of the word narcotic.  The etymology probably relates to the daffodil's toxicity - all parts of the plant are poisonous.

Daffodils have inspired writers, poets and artists through the centuries.  A favourite flower among romantic poets, they were immortalized by Wordsworth in his poem 'Daffodils" one of the most famous  poems in the English language. 

                                                                         *

I put the poem 'The Mind Cupboard" on the blog in the middle of the week as I thought it appropriate in the New Year.  As many readers agreed with me I have left in on for one more week.  

                                                                          *

 

From Samuel Pepys   January 1st  1667 in London  

'Lay long, being a bitter, cold, frosty day, the frost being now grown old, and the Thames covered in ice.'

 

From Thomas Hardy  January 2nd   1886 in Dorset

'Cold weather brings out upon the faces of people the written marks of their habits, vices, passions, and memories, as warmth brings out on paper a writing in sympathetic ink.' 

                                                                           *

The Mind Cupboard

 

 

 

My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

                                                                        *

 

With very best wishes, Patricia 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mind Cupboard

 Dear Reader,

 

As this poem is your favourite of all my work I thought I would put it up today for you to enjoy on New Year's Day, perhaps..... 

 

 

The Mind Cupboard

 

 

 

My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

 

                                                           *

 

With best wishes, Patricia 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                    

Plummage

Dear reader, 

Mistletoe's history stretches from sacred pagan rituals to  modern Christmas romance.  It was revered by the Druids for fertility and eternal life, central to Norse myth where Loki used it to kill Baldur, leading to its link with love and peace after Baldur's revival.

This ancient lore evolved into European winter decor for protection then blossomed into the Victorian-era, kissing tradition where berries were plucked fro each kiss, symbolizing love and good fortune.

Celtic Druids considered mistletoe sacred believing its ability to grow without roots on trees(like oak) connected the earthly and spiritual worlds, symbolizing vitality and re-birth used in healing rituals.

One of our most practiced Christmas traditions - kissing under the mistletoe - comes from Victorian times when a boy could win a kiss from a girl for each mistletoe berry he picked from his bunch.  This game probably originated from a Norse legend in which the goddess Frigga declared mistletoe a symbol of love. 

                                                                                *

From Richard Hayes   December 20th  1772 in Kent

'I now have strawberries in bloom as white as though in the month of May, under north wall, and a young elm in beautiful green leaf, planted over the way in Elm Grove.  Was it now the month of may I should soon have a ripe strawberry for dessert.   Wind full south, with a very pleasant and warmish breeze as I have felt colder in May and June.'

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth  December 20th  1801 in Westmorland

'Sunday.    It snowed all day ......It was very deep snow.   The brooms were very beautiful, arched feathers with wiry stalks pointed to the end, smaller and smaller.   They waved gently with the weight of the snow.' 

 

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Plumage

 

 

Deep in the humid forest

Scenting strongly of rich earth,

The bird of Paradise trips

Backwards and forwards on a tree branch,

Utters loud cries, jumps small jumps,

Dances the pas de deux,

Fans out his tail feathers,

Pink, aquamarine, blue and red

Yellow and green,

To entice female birds

To fall in love with him.

 

And sometimes they do.

 

The human male

Getting ready for a date

might slick back his hair,

smile at himself in the mirror,

put on a bright coloured shirt

red silk tie, and yellow waistcoat,

pat on some after shave

hum a tune, dancer a step or two,

and sally forth,

hoping some female will

fall in love with him.

 

And sometimes they do.

 

                                                                   *

Happy New Year my dear Friends,

 

with best wishes,

Patricia 

Quickening

Dear Reader,

 

The song thrush lives up to its name and is a consummate singer.  It is often heard at first light and as darkness falls at the end of the day.  The song thrush is essentially a woodland bird that has adapted to use our parks and gardens for feeding and breeding.

It is known for it habit of hitting snails against a rock to break the shell and access the soft bodied prey within; piles of broken snail shells are a good indicator of a birds presence. 

During the 1970s and 1980s the population went into a steep decline and many British gardens lost their resident song thrush.   More recently there has been a slight sign sign of recovery.

Thrushes are plump, often brown or grey, known for foraging in the ground for insects, worms and fruit.  They build cup-shaped nests and are famous for their melodic repetitive songs.

                                                                              *

So it is Christmas week once again.  Gosh it seems such a short while since last year. I had a happy year  walking, reading and watching some good films.  I discovered Heartbeat.  This is a very old fashioned series on Netflix.  I love it.  It all takes place in a village in Yorkshire and most of the action is in the Police Station, circa I suppose, 1950/60.   It all reminds me of how things were then and I really wish that they were still as they are in Heartbeat.  A better and kinder world. Ah well.....

                                                                              *

From Dorothy Wordsworth    December 12th  1801 in Westmorland

'A find frosty morning - Snow upon the ground.  I made bread and pies......All the mountains looked like solid stone ......The snow hid all the grass, and all the signs of vegetation, and the rocks showed themselves boldly everywhere, and seemed more stony than rock or stone.  The birches on the crags beautiful, red brown and glittering.  The ashes glittering spears with their upright stems..... We played at cards - sate up late.'

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth  December 19th   1802  in Westmorland

'......as mild a day as I ever remember.   We all set out to walk......There were flowers of various kinds - the topmost bell of a foxglove, geraniums, daisies, a buttercup in the water ...... small yellow flowers (I do not know their name) in the turf, a large bunch of strawberry blossoms.'

 

                                                                                   *

 

 

 

 

Quickening

 

 I want the pulse of life that has been asleep

to wake, embrace me, put on the light.

To hear the thrush, song-repeat, to keep

my trust in God to hurry icy winter’s flight.

I want to glimpse, under sodden leaves, green shoots

to announce life’s circle, its beginnings, have begun.

I want to run barefoot, abandon boots,

to walk through primrose paths, savour the sun.

I want to take off winter’s dress, change its season,

to see the coloured petticoats of spring, bloom

and show us mortals nature’s reason

to start afresh, admire the peacock’s plume.

Cellar the coal, brush the ashes from the fire,

I want to intertwine, my love, quicken, feel desire.

 

 

                                                                                         *

 

I wish you all a very happy Christmas day and a successful New Year, in whatever way you choose.

With very best wishes, Patricia