Sunday 17 March 2024

The Mind Cupboard



                                                                                             Wasps
 

 Dear Reader,

I am a little puzzled by last week's reaction to my blog.  For instance over 2,000 hits have been recorded from Hong Kong.  Thinking about it I can only assume that it was the poem : 'The Mind Cupboard'   that attracted people, perhaps painting a picture of something they could relate to.  So I have put it on again this week so anyone who didn't read it last week will now have a chance to see it.  There is some reference to wasps in it and I thought I would learn something about them for myself and for the blog. 

Wasps play a vital role as predators controlling the number of potential pests like greenfly and many caterpillars and protecting our crops and our gardens.  But wasps are also now increasingly understood to be valuable pollinators, transferring pollen as they visit flowers to drink nectar.h

It seems that they don't live long.  Adult worker wasps can live between 12-22 days while the queen will survive for the entire year until the cold causes the colony to die off.  The common wasp is found throughout the UK in almost all habitats, including woodland and urban areas. 

Unlike a bee, which can only sting once, the European wasp can sting repeatedly.  Around one in 10 people who are stung two or more times become allergic, which means they will experience severe reactions to any subsequent stings.  Wasps can become territorial if they feel their nests are threatened or when availability of food is low but most of them are not aggressive.

                                                                                 *

From John Ruskin  March 19th 1807 in Surrey

'Desperately cold, with huge-flaked snow.  The worst of January, November and March all in one.'


From Richard Hayes  March 21st 1762 in Kent

'This day I saw a yellow butterfly.....My rooks, by the cold weather and snows, did not begin building till last Sunday (14th).'


From Gilbert White    March 21st 1775 in Hampshire

'Earthworms lie out, and copulate.'

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth   March 21st  1798 in Somerset

'We drank tea at Coleridge's.  A quiet shower of snow was in the air during more than half our walk.'w

  

                                                                                  *                                                                     

 
 
 
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
 

 


Saturday 9 March 2024

The Mind Cupboard






 Dear Reader,

I saw a beautiful robin yesterday in the garden and I felt overjoyed as I haven't seen one since Christmas.  He was so sweet, looking around in such a cheerful manner, his bright little eyes sparkling.   I have looked up about a robin's story and this is what I have found.

The tale goes that the robin felt Christ's agony during the Crucifixion and went to pull out a thorn from His brow.  One version says that some of Christ's blood fell upon the birds breast, while another version says that the bird was wounded, both versions agree that the robin was blessed for the act of heroism.  

Male and female robins look identical, young birds have no red breasts and are spotted with golden brown.They sing nearly all the year round and despite their pretty appearance, they are aggressively territorial and are quick to drive away intruders.  They will sing at night next to street lights.

A robin sighting may let you know that is time to let go of things that are holding you back, find inspiration in your life, find your creative side, and show it to the world.

For centuries this tiny bird has been the symbol of good luck, happiness, rebirth and sometimes even as a messenger for lost love ones.  Robins defend their territory all the year round for breeding and feeding, they will fight to the death to protect their territory from other robins.


                                                                                     *

 From Richard Hayes  March 9th  1766 in Kent


'Very pleasant sunny warm day.  My rooks for the week past have been very busy a building.  And the butterflies have turned out.  Crocuses and spring flowers appear.  I now look upon this to be the pleasantest time of the year.'


From Francis Kilvert   March 19th  in Radnorshire

'The sun was almost overpowering.  Heavy black clouds drove up and rolled round the sky without veiling the hot sunshine, black clouds with white edges they were, looking suspiciously like thunder clouds.  Against these black clouds the sunshine showed the faint delicate green and pink of the trees thickening with bursting buds.'

                                                                             *

 

 

 

 

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
 

 


Sunday 3 March 2024

Friendship





                                                                                        Spring Gardens
 

 

Dear reader,

I was thinking about friendship this week.  When I went to live in Oxford in the early eighties, divorced, and living on my own I became friends with Katie Fforde, the well known novelist.  We met at a Writers Week for those of us who wanted to become writers.  It was residential and I shared a room with Katie. Obviously we talked about our ambitions and our life and from then on she was a good friend to me.

She told me she was going to be a writer of novels, that stories poured into her head and that is what she wanted to do with her life, write them down. Incidentally Katie was married with three children and a devoted and loving husband.  I was trying my hand at poetry and since then I think I could say that I am a poet certainly not a novelist although I have written an autobiography:   "Half a Pair of People".   Do try it if you want something to laugh at in this rather miserable time of year. It is on Amazon.

Over the ensuing years Katie did indeed become a well known novelist and sadly I lost touch with her, got married again and lived a rather reclusive life.  But I spent a few weeks in hospital during 2019 and sent out for a few of her books to read.  Her books are so delightful and I knew they would cheer me up.  Well two weeks ago I saw she had written another novel and I sent for it.  It was just as joyful as all the others I have read.  

So I found her name on the internet and wrote to her.  We have been emailing each other ever since, there is so much to reminisce about especially to tell her how much I loved her mother, Barbara. It has been a wonderful experience  finding her again and would urge anyone reading this who has lost touch with an old friend to try and make contact.  Lots of memories come up that you thought you had lost and can now share with the friend which is interesting and lots of fun.  The old saying that there is nothing like old friends is so true, so true.

                                                                             *

From Gilbert White  1783 March 8th, in Hampshire

The crocuses make a gaudy appearance, and bees gather on them.  The air is soft.  Violets blow.  snow lies under hedges.   Men plow.


From D.H.Lawrence  1916 March 9th in Cornwall

This morning, the world was white with snow. This evening the sunset is yellow, the birds are whistling, the gorse bushed are bristling with little winged suns....The new incoming days seem most wonderful, uncreated.


                                                                             *

Friendship renewed

 

And there she was

my friend of many years ago

a little changed perhaps

did I see a white hair

but it was her alright

the same sweet smile

the elegant clothes

the suede boots

 

we spoke

 

tears overtook me

we had aged of course

but our friendship revived

my heart overflowing with

such an intense feeling

of long-lost love

long-lost affection

truly

a feeling like no other for

a precious friendship

 

                                                                            *

 

With very best wishes, Patricia


Sunday 25 February 2024

The Stranger



                                                            The Stranger

                                                                      Kookaburra

Dear Reader,


A kookaburra has been spotted living wild in the Suffolk countryside.  The bird which is a member of the kingfisher family, is native to Australia and is an unusual sight in the UK.  Apparently it has been here for about nine years and has made itself at home.

In favourable conditions kookaburras can live for more than 20 years and have the same partner for life. As small carnivores, kookaburras play an integral role in the ecosystem by controlling small animal populations.

The kookaburra holds significant cultural and mythological importance particularly in indigenous Australian traditions.  Revered as a sacred and powerful creature the kookaburra is often associated with creation stories and spiritual beliefs.

                                                                                     *

The poem today I wrote having visited my mother in hospital. I noticed the woman in the next bed was very ill, dying in fact, and not a person attending her.  I held her hand until someone came but I was very shocked and upset.  Gosh I hope my family will be with me when my turn comes.


                                                                                      *

From Francis Kilvert  February 24th  1870  in Radnorshhire

'The Black Mountains lighted up grandly, all the furrows and watercourses clear and brilliant.   People coming home from market, birds singing, buds bursting, and the spring air full of beauty, life and hope.'


From D.H.Lawrence February 24th 1916 in Cornwall

'Just at present it is very cold.   It has been blowing here also, and a bit of snow.  Till now the weather has been so mild.  Primroses and violets are out, and the gorse is lovely.  At Zennor one infinite Atlantic, all peacock-mingled colours, and the gorse is sunshine itself, already.  But this cold wind is deadly.'


                                                                                   *

The Stranger
 
 
Who are you, stranger,
alone in the hospital bed,
lips blue and pinched,
hands wrinkled and red?
 
You are dying, I know,
although nothing was said.
 
Who were you, stranger,
alone in the hospital bed,
hair now sparse and silver,
but then - was it black, or chestnut, or red,
did it grow in abundance to halo your head?
 
You are dying, I know,
although nothing was said.
 
Who loved you, stranger,
alone in the hospital bed,
now fighting for breath - but then
did children embrace you
whom once you had fed?
Did you have husbands, or daughters, or sons,
or did you have lovers instead?
 
You are dying, I know,
although nothing was said.
 
I love you, stranger,
alone in the hospital bed,
I’m here watching you dying,
and holding your hand,
I see angels flying, coming for you,
my stranger, no longer alone
in the hospital bed.
 
                                                                              *
 
With very best wishes, Patricia
 
 

 

Tuesday 20 February 2024

Navalny

 


Dear Reader,

                                                    A mid week offering


Navalny

 

You preached freedom

spoke of unity

told the people

of a better future

 

You loved your country

despised the rulers

their cruelty and lies

imagined peace

 

worked hard to

change the order

but it was not to be

they finished you

 

murdered you Navalny

tortured you

poisoned you

and with you went

 

hope and freedom

                                                                  *

 

With best wishes, Patricia


Sunday 18 February 2024

Of Different Stuff




 Dear reader,

Prunus cerasifera is a species of plum known by the common names cherry plum and myrobalan plum.  It is native to Southeast Europe and Western Asia, and is naturalized in the British Isles and scattered locations in North America.

The cherry plum is a popular ornamental tree for gardens and landscaping use, grown for its very early flowering. Cultivated cherry plums can have fruits, foliage, and flowers in any of several colours.  Some varieties have sweet fruits that can be eaten fresh, while others are sour and better for making jam.  It is a popular tree in Romania where its fruits are used for souring soups when immature, for eating raw when ripened and for making moonshine when over ripe because of their high sugar content.

There is one I can see from my sitting room window in someone else's garden and lovely it is too. I really feel that spring is unfolding, with daffodils and snowdrops in the flower beds.  And crocuses on the lawn.

                                                                            

                                                                             *

 

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth   February 14th 1798 in Somerset

Gathered sticks with William in the wood, he being unwell and not able to go further.  The young birch trees of a bright red, through which gleams a shade of purple.  Sat down in a thick part of the wood.  The near trees still, ever to their topmost boughs, but a perpetual motion in those that skirt the wood.  The breeze rose gently; its path distinctly marked, till it came to the very spot where we were. 


From Gilbert White  February 18th 1786 in Hampshire

Pleasant season: paths dry.  Men plough and sow.   Large titmouse sings his three notes.

 

From James Woodforde    February 18th 1795 in Norfolk

Very hard frost with strong easterly winds, a black frost.....Had a fire again in my bedchamber to-night.


                                                                             *

Of Different Stuff

 

 The ATS, the WAAFS, the WRENS,

rode in battleships,

flew spitfires and mosquitoes,

decoded enemy messages

nursed the wounded.

 

They tilled the land

drove tractors, fed the pigs,

birthed the lambs,

rose with the dawn,

went to bed late

exhausted and often hungry.

 

They walked alone in London

late at night

in the dark and dangerous streets,

they slept in freezing dormitories

shared a lavatory and basin

with twenty others.

 

These women were made

of different stuff.

They were fearless,

 they were brave.

 

                                          *

 

I am ashamed at my fearfulness

in the peace they fought for us,

gave us.

I am made, sadly, of different stuff.

 

                                                                                               *


With very best wishes, Patricia

 


Sunday 11 February 2024

Revelation




 Dear Reader,

You are old, Father William,' the young man said
'And your hair has become very white;
and yet you incessantly stand on your head -
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'

Lewis Carroll 1832 - 1898

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson was better known by his pen name Lewis Carroll.  He was an English author, poet, mathematician and photographer. His most notable works are Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and its sequel, Through the Looking Glass. He was noted for his facility with word play, logic and fantasy.  His poems Jabberwoky, and Hunting the Snark are classified in the genre of literary nonsense.

As a very young child he suffered a fever that left him deaf in one ear.  At the age of 17 he suffered a severe attack of whooping cough which was probably responsible for his chronically weak chest in later life.  In early childhood he acquired a stammer which he referred to as his "hesitation", it remained throughout his life.

Dodgson died of pneumonia following influenza on 14th January 1898.  He is commemorated at All Saints Church, Daresbury, in its stained glass windows depicting characters from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland erected in 1935.

 

                                                                        *

From D.H. Lawrence    February 9th  1919 in Derbyshire

'It is marvelous weather - brilliant sunshine on the snow, clear as a summer, slightly golden sun, distnace it up.  But it is immensely cold - everything frozen solid - milk, mustard, everything.  Yesterday I went out for a real walk- the bare top of the hills.  Wonderful it is to see the foot marks on the snow - beautiful ropes of rabbit prints, trailing away over the brows; heavy hare marks; a fox so sharp and dainty, going over the wall: birds with two feet that hop; very splendid straight advance of a pheasant; wood pigeons that are clumsy and move in flocks; splendid little leaping marks of weasels coming along like a necklace chain of berries; odd little filigree of the the field-mice; the trail of a mole - it is astonishing what a world of wild creatures one feels about one, on the hills in snow.' 

                                                                          *

Revelation


Why didn't they tell us
that
it was going to be like this

this difficult

that old age
lurks

thinking up something
to upset us

something to pain us
reduce us to tears

it comes in the night
creeps up on us
unawares

we didn't know that this was
our fate
until its arrival

                 much     too late

                                                                         *

With very best wishes, Patricia


                                                                                 *