Blue Gingham Dress

 

Dear Reader,

Perhaps it was a strange choice to put on 'Blue Gingham Dress' obviously a summer poem, but I thought after the somewhat gloomy January we could cheer up thinking of our first exciting kiss in the sunshine of July, or wherever else it took place.  I have to own that I have never forgotten that evening.

Another book that I had given to me at Christmas this year was called 'English Pastoral' by James Rebanks, he who wrote "A Shepherds Life' with such acclaim last year.  Well I couldn't put it down.  I was not someone who was brought up on a farm but we did have a cottage in Norfolk where my sister and I kept ponies. This book is about farming and how it has changed, NOT for the better in the last few years.  Every page brings a revelation.  I mean when did you last see a pig in a field, or for that matter, a cow? You may not have seen these animals because they are being kept in barns all the year round.  If they are let out they make too much mess.  They are cows for goodness sake.  And then all the small fields which were once surrounded by hedges for small birds to nest in have been made enormous with vast tractors to plough with, and the hedges have been torn down. No seagulls fly after these tractors because there are no worms in the soil anymore, because of the chemicals sown to get rid of troublesome weeds, weeds that insects need to feed on.

And all the old traditions of farmers, like allowing fields to rest sometimes to regrow nutritiously, the soil to refresh, with the pace of everything changed to 'as quick as possible' there is certainly 'no time to stand and stare.'  The farmers years ago knew each other and met socially in the pub or in their homes.  Now there isn't time for this important part of a farmers life.  

Well I won't go on, if you seem interested why not buy the book yourself. Finishing it I was very moved and upset by it.  But I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

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From Gilbert White, 1776, in Hampshire, January 14th

'Rugged, Siberian weather.  The narrow lanes are full of snow in places....The road-waggons are obliged to stop, and the stage-coaches are much embarassed.  I was obliged to be much abroad on this day, and scarce ever saw it fellow.'

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Blue Gingham Dress

She was wearing
a blue gingham dress
long sleeved, with lace collar,
one summer evening in July.

A sweet smell of lilies
lavender bushes
roses and orange blossom
drifted on the air,

the sea sapphire
played its own repetitive tune
soft and enticing,
and a southerly wind blew.

Suddenly he took her hand
drew her near
kissed her urgently,
then came the call,

they separated
ran back to the house
her heart racing
knees weak, on fire.

The gingham dress
worn and faded now,
hangs at the back of the cupboard,
but the kiss is still as fresh
as it was on that one
summer evening in July.

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With very best wishes, Patricia