Sleep Snare

 Dear Reader,

Sleeping is a large part of our lives and an essential function that enables our bodies and minds to recharge.  While this universal human experience may seem like a biological constant research shows that our sleeping patterns haven't always been the same.

An average night sleep in 17th century England is thought to have started with people going to bed between 9pm and 11pm.  A few hours later they would wake from their first slumber for between one or two hours before going back to their second sleep which would last until morning.

During night time waking hours evidence shows that people engaged in a variety of pastimes, whether that meant staying in bed to read or going out and visiting a neighbour.  When Thomas Edison invented the incandescent light bulb in 1879 it saw wide spread adoption that changed the way we sleep forever.  This is because it allowed people to stay up, work or socialize through the night in a way that wasn't possible under the dim glow of moonlight or with the use of oil lamps.

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I have always been a very poor sleeper.  Every night at about 3am I go downstairs and make a cup of tea. I take it up back to bed and read for a while until I feel sleepy.  I have a sleep in the afternoons, and at this time I sleep deeply and well.  

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From Dorothy Wordsworth   October 12th  1800 in Westmorland

'We pulled apples after dinner, a large basket full.  We walked before tea by Bainriggs to observe the many-coloured foliage. The oaks dark green with some yellow leaves, the birches generally still green, some near the water yellowish, the sycamore crimson and crimson-tufted, the mountain ash a deep orange, the common ash lemon colour, bu many ashes still fresh in their summer green.'

From Gilbert White  October 13th  1787 in Hampshire

'We saw several redwings among the bushes on the north side of the common.   There were swallows about the village at the same time:  so that summer and winter birds of passage were seen on the same day.'

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Sleep snare

 

 

 

 

I lie awake and hear

the clock strike three,

and wonder how to

snare elusive sleep,

how to capture it,

how to find

its hiding place

and coax it back to bed.

I might entice  it

with crimson berries,

or butter croissants

then pounce on it,

and let it loose

inside my head.

But sharp is cunning sleep

it knows the tricks,

is bored of counting sheep.

 

 

 

I must fly northwards

to the moon

and let sleep take me

 

 

soon

 

          soon

 

soon ......... 

 

 

 

 

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With very best wishes, Patricia

 

 

 

 

The Shed

 Dear Reader,

I took this information from the Daily Telegraph as I thought it was interesting and hope you do too.

"You may have noticed spiders scuttling across your floor or dropping from the ceilings, fangs glistening, hairy legs outstretched, all eight of them.  If they are not in your house yet, they soon will be.  They are coming, and this year, according to reports, some are as big as rats.    It is spider season.

Late August and early autumn mark the start of the spider mating season when millions of sex-crazed male spiders look for mates and end up indoors.

Meg Skinner, a spider expert, says spiders are around our gardens all year round but now we are seeing a lot more spiders in homes.  They are bigger and tend to wander round rather than hide in corners.  This is because the ones that we encounter are usually males looking for females to mate with.  The females generally stay in one spot in the corner.  But the idea that spiders enter our homes for warmth is a myth.  Spiders don't like heat they prefer cooler, damp conditions.

There is no good reason to be afraid of spiders.  The vast majority of the world's spiders are harmless and there are no dangerous spiders in the United Kingdom."

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From Dorothy Wordsworth   October 2nd 1800 in Westmorland

'A very rainy morning.   We walked after dinner to observe the torrents....the lichens are now coming out afresh, I carried home a collection in the afternoon.   We had a pleasant conversation about the manners of the rich - avarice, inordinate desires, and the effeminacy, unnaturalness, and the  unworthy objects of education ... a showery evening.   The moonlight lay upon the hills like snow.'

From Gerard Manley Hopkins   October 5th 1872 in Lancashire

'A goldencrested wren had got into my room at night and circled round dazzled by the gaslight on the white ceiling; when caught even and put out it would come in again.   Ruffling the crest which is mounted over the crown and eyes like bettlebrows, I smoothed and fingered the little orange and yellow feathers which are hidden in it.  Next morning i found many of these about the room and enclosed them in a letter to Cyril (his brother) on his wedding day.'

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The Shed

 

 The spider let himself down

from a crack in the grimy rafters.

Time to spin another web,

catch flies, feed his children.

This old shed he loved

had housed his ancestors,

its essence was in his blood.

He knew well the aged wooden bench

laiden with hand-worn tools,

the swallow’s yearly nesting place,

the bee’s hum and buzz.

He knew of the warmth from the earth floor,

from the hurricane lamp, lit on dark evenings,

of the dusty windows facing north,

and he knew he could swing on the ash spokes

spliced to the wheel hung on the hook.

He knew too that the moonlight

cast quiet shadows on the pile of logs,

home to small scuttling creatures.

He knew that nearby in a bed of shavings,

an old dog slept.

This restful shed scented with lavender and tar,

was a timeless place.

 

Clearing, cleaning, scraping, peeling,

the old shed becomes new.

Much buzzing and humming

as computers move in, reference books,

filing cabinets, printers, blaring telephones,

glaring lights, and stress.

 

No quiet shadows now

in the bright new shed,

no cracks, no silence, and the spider.... dead.

 

 

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With very best wishes, Patricia